


now I worship a celestial sun

by haemodye



Category: Avengers (Comics), Marvel 616, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Humor, Bottom Steve Rogers, Curse of Obedience, Curses, Dom Steve Rogers, Explicit Sexual Content, Fairy Tale Curses, Fluff and Humor, Getting Together, Holidays, Humor, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, Love Confessions, M/M, Magic, Mild S&M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mutual Pining, POV Tony Stark, Parade Floats, Parades, Prompt Fill, Protectiveness, St. Patrick's Day, Stark Industries, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony has to obey commands but he's so down with it so don't worry too much, protective friends, the SI employees love Tony but he's such a weird fuckin' boss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-14 15:40:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18055304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haemodye/pseuds/haemodye
Summary: The thing that gets Tony the most is how long it takes him to notice.Not Steve, or even the other Avengers, but Tony himself. It takes Tony almost two whole weeks to figure out that he’s unable to disobey a direct order from Steve, which just- what the hell is that? What happened to the days when he flew off the handle, unable to play well with others, a notorious wild card?“God, don’t tell me I’m getting old and predictable,” he says, rubbing a hand over his forehead. And then, “Fuck.”A mostly-comedic farce involving: 1 obedience spell, 2 pining Avengers, 1 long-suffering Sorcerer Supreme, and 1 single, extravagant Saint Patrick's Day float.





	1. self from self: a deadly banishment

**Author's Note:**

> A de-anon from the Cap-Ironman Kink Meme. OP can be found [here](https://cap-ironman.dreamwidth.org/1984503.html?thread=14663159).
> 
> Important Content Warnings: consensual bondage, light BDSM, tragic civilian death, dubious consent (see spoilery cw on this in the End Notes). Stay safe and enjoy the ride!
> 
> Note for those who care about 'verse: This is mostly 616 based, but tbh I loved the idea of JARVIS judging cursed!Tony too much so I stuck him in here. Steve's characterisation is def more comics, and Tony's somewhere in the middle?

 

 

 

> Love is your master, for he masters you;  
>  And he that is so yoked by a fool,  
>  Methinks, should not be chronicled for wise.
> 
>             ― William Shakespeare, _The_ _Two Gentlemen of Verona_ , Act I, Scene I, Lines 40-43

 

The thing that gets Tony the most is how long it takes him to notice.

Not Steve, or even the other Avengers, but Tony himself. It takes _Tony_ almost two whole weeks to figure out that he’s unable to disobey a direct order from Steve, which just- what the hell is that? What happened to the days when he flew off the handle, unable to play well with others, a notorious wild card?

“God, don’t tell me I’m getting old and predictable,” he says, rubbing a hand over his forehead. And then, “ _Fuck_.”

“Sir, I really think you should tell the team.”

“Yeah, so Cap can roll over me like a fucking tank? More than he apparently _already does_ , since absolutely nobody noticed that oh, hey, turns out that when Morgan Le Fay hit me with her flashy purple light, it actually did something!” Okay, maybe he’s panicking a little. “Please tell me Strange is in the city right now.”

“There’s been no answer from the Sanctum, and my algorithms have found no footage of him more recent than that of six days past. I suspect he is off world.”

“Great,” Tony says. “Just great.”

If he wanted to be honest with himself, he’d admit that he’s not actually that surprised. This isn’t half as bad as it could have been. He and Cap have been friends for years now, and they respect each other. Cap rarely gives Tony orders anymore, instead couching his directives as questions. Tony responds better to inquiries than imperatives, and Cap is a lauded tactician. He was being _handled_ , he realizes, and didn’t that sting like a bitch. Cap had been handling him like a rogue asset.

“People died today, because god forbid Cap let me risk my life in the field for helpless civilians,” Tony snarls. His hands are shaking, and he doesn’t know who or what he’s angrier at: the team for not noticing anything was wrong, Steve for forbidding him from going into an unstable parking complex to save the handful of life forms still trapped inside, or himself for daring to think even for a minute that this wasn’t so bad.

“My judgement is the best judgement in the field in terms of what I’m able to accomplish in the moment. No one else knows what it’s like to be me, how the suit works. Cap’s a good team leader, sure, but that doesn’t mean he always makes the right call.”

“I have said nothing to the contrary, sir,” JARVIS says, and Tony scowls. “Perhaps Mr. Odinson might have-”

“There is no way Loki is touching me when I’m mind whammied.”

“-some magical expertise of his own would that could be useful to you?” JARVIS finishes smoothly, ignoring his interruption.

“Thor saw her hit me and didn’t notice a damn thing,” Tony says sighing. “Look, there’s no evidence of it affecting my relationships with anyone else on the team, right?”

“Agent Barton demanded you stop eating his cereal this morning whilst you ate the last bowl’s worth of Captain Crunch in front of him. Slowly. While smiling and humming Steel Panther’s “The Burden of being Wonderful.” I think we can safely say that the spell is restricted to your interactions with Captain Rogers and no one else.”

“Yeah, thank you for that, Sassmonster,” Tony says, but he feels a little better. JARVIS is pretty good at that. “Do you think anyone noticed?”

“Agent Romanov has expressed some confusion that you obeyed Captain Rogers’ orders during the battle with The Wrecking Crew, but I doubt she suspects the truth.”

“Great,” Tony says, clapping his hands together. “Here’s what we’re gonna do. Fill up my schedule. And I mean really fill it. Everything Pepper’s been desperate to get me to do, for the next two weeks, just fill it right up. Routine factory inspection in Bangladesh? Let’s go. Glad-handing for the Maria Stark foundation? Sounds fun. Can’t obey what I’m not around to hear.”

“Miss Potts will certainly notice if you begin attending all of your meetings,” JARVIS says drolly, and Tony shrugs.

“Sure, and I’ll tell her I’m mad at Cap and avoiding the team. Easy.”

“The best lies have an element of truth, sir?” JARVIS says, and Tony grins.

“You know me so well, baby.” He spins around in his chair, once, twice, before pushing off and sliding across the room to the armour rigging. “Alright, now let’s get you all fixed up.”

“Shall I revoke Captain Rogers’ access to the workshop?” JARVIS asks, and Tony raises an eyebrow. “Only, he’s approaching as we speak.”

“Fuck, yes, Jesus. Lock it, _lock it_.”

“Lockdown initiated, sir.”

Tony lets out a breath as the workshop glass tints, fingers clenching on the edge of the worktop. “Oh, fuck, he’s gonna be pissed.”

“Sir.” JARVIS pauses, hesitant, and Tony turns to the nearest camera and offers a raised eyebrow. “He is bringing dinner for the both of you. I suspect it is an apology.”

“Damn it,” Tony says, smoothing a hand over his mouth. “Is he making the puppy dog eyes? Please tell me he’s not making the puppy dog eyes.”

JARVIS helpfully pulls up the camera from the workshop door, where sure enough, Steve is standing and looking more than a little forlorn. He tries his code, then sighs, stooping down to leave one plate of what looks like lemon chicken and cauliflower rice by the door. God, did Steve _cook_ that? He only ever cooks health food for Tony. The man is unbelievable.

“JARVIS, can you make sure he eats?” Steve says, and Tony winces. “Tell him…well. I’m ready to talk whenever he’s ready.”

“Of course, Captain.”

Steve nods, slipping into stiff military attention the way he always does when he’s nursing a hurt. Then he turns and heads back up the stairs towards the elevator, tension strung across his broad shoulders.

“Aaaaaand I’m an asshole,” Tony says, drumming his fingers on the worktop. He flicks the holodisplay footage away with nimble fingers.

“Sir, I’m not sure I understand why you are keeping this secret from the team.”

Tony frowns. “Seriously, J? I programmed you better than that,” he says. “Because they’ll bench me, obviously. They’ll put me on ice while they try to undo whatever it is that Le Fay did, and if that’s not the biggest fucking cosmic injustice then I don’t know what qualifies. It’s not like they’re gonna bench Cap, even if he’s the one-” He stops, takes a breath. Some things shouldn’t be said, even in anger to your closest confidant. “Look. Leave Strange a message, tell him it’s an emergency. And keep the search running in the background, lest he pop up in the fuckin’ mountains of Laos or something.”

“Of course, sir.”

Tony huffs out a bitter laugh, then turns to the damaged gauntlet on the armour. Might as well be useful, while he’s in his self-imposed exile.

“Your dinner is still hot,” JARVIS prompts, and that’s just not playing fair. “Shall I have DUM-E fetch the plate?”

“Fine,” Tony grits out, and reaches for a spanner. This is going to end poorly; he can already tell.

 

 

It takes less than twenty four hours for Pepper to corner him, right after a meeting with the Amateur Astronomers’ Association of New York. Probably because he’s desperate enough to agree to a meeting with the Amateur Astronomers’ Association of New York. In his defence, they were surprisingly pretty awesome, but then they were nerds with telescopes dedicated to public education. That was kind of hard to hate, no matter how cynical of an asshole he was.

“Hey, Pep! Meet Arish. Arish, meet Pepper Potts. I’ve just agreed to let Arish and his buddies set up on the lawn every Wednesday, complete with some public programming initiatives.” The look that Pepper is giving him is absolutely transparent in its suspicion, and Tony offers her his most dazzling smile before turning back to his new friend. “Arish, I’m sure Ms. Arbogast would be happy to direct you to the proper Maria Stark Foundation employees to talk to about educational programming initiatives in the Memorial Park. She’s the sweet and yet not-so-subtly terrifying Iron Maiden up at the front desk.”

“Yes, terribly sorry, but I have to borrow Mr. Stark for a moment,” Pepper says smoothly, extending a hand and neatly hooking Tony’s arm. “If you’ll excuse us?”

“I’ll be sure to be there for the inaugural stargazing!” Tony calls, waving over his shoulder at Arish as he’s dragged down the hall. The man smiles at him a little bashfully, waving back, and Tony grins.

“Tony!” Pepper hisses, and Tony turns back to her with his most winning smile. “Yeah, that stopped working on me years ago. Try harder.”

“Oh!” Tony crows, clutching his chest. “You wound me, Miss Potts.”

“Tony,” Pepper says evenly, “why are you here flirting with the head of the Amateur Astrologers’ Association and not holed up in your workshop or buried in some horrifying biotech project with Peter?”

“Astrologers?” Tony repeats, a little offended. “I am a man of science, Miss Potts, how dare you.”

“You have until we reach my office to answer my question or I am going to sign you up to teach at Global Game Jam this year, so help me-”

“Can’t I just want to give back? I’ve always said that the Memorial Park should get more use than SI employees eating lunch and tourists camped out with telephoto lenses trying to get a glimpse of The Avengers. It’ll liven up the place! Bring in children and nerdy college kids. And hipsters who like meteor showers.” He pauses, considering. “And, actually, probably some astrology nuts who wanna see Scorpio or whatever and wear crystals aligned with their chakras, but hey, fuck those people.”

“Tony!” Pepper snaps, and Tony lets out a rough breath.

“I’m avoiding Steve,” he says, which what do you know, has the added benefit of being 100% true.

“ _Why_ are you avoiding Steve?” Pepper asks, mostly from between her teeth. The smile that she offers the SI employees they pass is practically feral.

“Because I’m mad at him.”

“Of course,” Pepper says, and then she sighs, the tension slipping out of her frame. “God, I thought something really awful was going on. Don’t scare me like that.”

“What, me? Never,” Tony says, pouting, and Pepper pulls him into her office with a huff. “Why am I still being dragged around? I answered your question. I even did all my paperwork this week!”

“Which is so unusual and strange that it terrified me,” Pepper deadpans. She fetches up against her desk, folding her arms and eyeing Tony with suspicion. “This is about the last fight. Because you lost people.”

Tony flinches bodily. He can’t stop himself from doing it, because the words hurt. So, yeah, maybe he is actually kind of pissed at Steve.

“I could have saved them,” he says. “Cap forbade me from going in. Like I was a fucking child. It was selfish. I could have taken the building collapsing on me in the armour, if that was what he was worried about.”

“You broke three ribs last time a building fell on you. One of your lungs collapsed before Thor was finally able to pull you out,” Pepper says, sounding exhausted.

“Better than dead,” Tony retorts. The expression on Pepper’s face is tired, withering, and Tony lets out a rough breath, fiddling with his tie where it falls over the reactor. “Teresa Alvarez went back for her dog, who she’d left in a warm parking spot with the windows cracked like a good dog mom. His name was Sunny. She was four months pregnant.”

“Oh,” Pepper says, one fine-boned hand coming up to cover her mouth. “Tony.”

“I could have saved her.”

“You don’t know that,” Pepper says, but her heart isn’t in it. She opens her arms, and Tony slumps forward, pressing his face into the crook of her neck. “I wish you wouldn’t blame yourself for these things. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Thom Bogdan had been a grief counsellor for thirty years and treated over fifty vets. He died on the floor below because he’d fallen asleep in the car waiting for his wife while she went shopping for Saint Patrick’s Day decorations.”

“Tony, stop,” Pepper pleads, smoothing her hands over his spine. “Stop it. Don’t do this to yourself.”

“I need to put my brain to work or I’m going to go crazy. I can’t sit in the workshop alone like this. I’ll relapse. And I don’t know if I can look at Cap without wanting to punch his damned perfect teeth in. So just…let me do this.” He’s begging. He knows he is, and he thinks that maybe, he’s telling more of the truth than he’d been willing to admit to himself. Pepper was sneaky like that. She was good at poking at Tony’s weaknesses, exposing the soft underbelly of his armour and tearing him open.

“We could put an SI float in the Saint Patrick’s Day Parade,” Pepper says, and Tony lets out a rough laugh. “I could put you in charge of something fun and creative and crazy. You like that.”

“The parade is in less than two weeks,” Tony says, but it’s not a complaint.

“You work best on a last-minute deadline,” Pepper points out, and Tony nods into her neck.

“Yeah,” he says. “I do.”

He lets himself take comfort in Pepper’s embrace for the space of another score of heartbeats, letting the familiar scent of her perfume wash over him, the feeling of her long ponytail as it slides through his absentminded, fiddling fingers. Eventually, he pulls away, brushing a stray single hair off of her blazer.

“Thanks,” he says, more than a little sheepish, but Pepper just smiles at him.

“Will that be all, Mr. Stark?”

“That’ll be all, Miss Potts,” he says. He takes a step back, waving a jaunty salute at her. “I’m gonna go. I have a meeting with the best and brightest STEM minds from the specialised high schools of New York in twenty minutes.”

“I’ll have Bambi send you the info on the float,” Pepper says, and Tony nods at her. Then he steps out of her office, and closes the door behind him, because emotions make him break out in hives.

 

 

The real issue is that unfortunately, Tony can’t avoid Steve forever.

They live together, he and Steve are best friends. They’ve memorized each other’s schedules. And while that’s great for Tony if he wants to make sure he’s not in the kitchen like he always is when Cap bounces in post-jog, flushed and sweating and unfairly gorgeous after having run something close to twenty miles, it also means that Cap knows exactly where to find him.

“You can’t avoid me forever.”

Tony startles, his heart jumping right into his throat to find Steve standing in the dark tower garage like some kind of Hitchcock antagonist. He’s blocking the panel to call the elevator, and he’s been standing still in one position for so long that the motion sensor lights have gone out. Tony didn’t even see him.

“So you know I don’t want to see you, and you’re ignoring my wishes,” Tony says, mostly because he knows it’ll hurt Steve. And he kind of wants to hurt him. This whole situation has been a bad hand all around, and he hates it, and he wants to spread his misery. He’s never claimed to be anything but petty. “Also, fuck you so much for using the predictability of my AA meetings against me. That’s a low fucking blow for anyone, let alone Captain America.”

“ _Tony_ ,” Steve says, expression folding into pain, and Tony holds up a hand.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he says. “JARVIS, call the elevator, since the Blue Meanie here clearly has no intention of moving.”

It’s the wrong thing to say, because it changes the set of Steve’s jaw from placating to stubborn. That’s alright; Tony’s been ready for a fight. He kind of wants it, in fact.

“You never listen to my orders in the field,” Cap says, hoarse and shaking, and _oh_. Tony should have prepared himself better for this. “I’m not sorry you did this time. I’m _glad_ , okay? You could have gone in and killed yourself. Is that what you really wanted, Tony? I had JARVIS run the numbers, there was a 69% chance of serious injury-”

“Which isn’t death!” Tony snarls, low and fierce, but Steve’s already shaking his head. “Listen hypocrite, you want to shout at me after every battle for not falling in line like a good soldier, huh? Look what happens when I listen to you: you get a pregnant woman and her puppy-”

Tony sucks in a sharp breath, because he knows immediately that was way, way too far. It was too far, and Steve looks like Tony’s cut him open straight down the middle. Horrifyingly, he looks like he might cry, and Tony reaches out a shaking hand, holding it up in a gesture of peace. Steve’s eyes are wide and so, so blue, and Tony wants to hold him, but he can’t. He can’t trust himself right now.

“Fuck, that was- this is why I didn’t want to see you,” he says, and Steve closes his eyes. The breath punches out of him. “No! No, listen, I meant, I’m not ready. I didn’t want to say something I’d regret, and I already regret that. That was a shitty fucking thing to say, Steve, I’m so sorry.”

“Tell me you didn’t mean it,” Steve says, voice quaking, and Tony doesn’t need to be under a spell to give that to him. The fact that he is means that his mouth moves without his consent, shaping the words, cheapening them.

“I didn’t mean it,” he says firmly, and he hates this, he fucking hates it. That apology should have come from him, not a spell. It’s not real, and Steve deserves better. “But I can’t…I need more time. Okay?”

The expression that graces Steve’s face when he opens his eyes is fragile. It’s delicate enough that Tony reaches out a hand to touch the edge of one sharp cheekbone, and the way Steve melts into the touch is like magic. It feels like all the pressure in the room goes out in the rush of Steve’s relieved exhale, and Tony just stands there, waits for it to happen.

“Okay,” Steve says, nodding. “But just so you know, I kinda miss my best friend.”

Tony swallows, embarrassment creeping over him in a hot flush. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” Steve says, wry. He chucks Tony under the chin. “Are you taking care of yourself, at least?”

“I’ve eaten two whole meals today, scouts honour,” Tony says, one hand over his heart, the other raised to God. The smile Steve offers him is weak, but it’s there: soft and a little pained.

“Come find me, when you’re ready?” he asks, and fuck, is that a command? Tony nods at him, biting back a wince. “Alright.” He steps away from the elevator, shuffling his feet awkwardly. “Well, uh. I guess I’ll see you around.”

“Steve,” Tony says, rolling his eyes. “You can take the elevator up with me, y’know.”

Steve just shakes his head. “I’m going out,” he says. “I have a meeting. I just wanted to catch you before I go.” He winces. “And you’re right; I’m sorry for exploiting the predictability of your AA meetings. That was unfair.”

Tony shrugs, stepping into the elevator. “Don’t worry about it. Later, Cap.”

The doors close on Steve’s pained, longing expression. It’s enough to make him want to go back, but he knows he can’t.

“Any word on Strange?” he asks.

“I’m afraid not, sir.”

“Damn.” He taps his fingers on the reactor, tired and furious. “I fucking hate magic.”

 

 

It turns out that there’s a slightly smaller population of Irish-Americans in SI than Tony would have thought, but that’s alright. He’s got enough to populate a float, plus Pepper, and after a few emails they come up with a small group of folks who are interested enough to be on the central planning committee.

“I really like the vintage fire truck idea.”

“You just want to work on a vintage fire truck,” Joyce Kiely tells him, because SI employees are many things, but generally, easily fooled isn’t one of them. She’s a fierce blond who works in Legal, and Tony is maybe a little in love with her.

“Sure,” he agrees. “But just think of all the hot fireman outfits we can get away with.”

“Are you making inappropriate sexual advances on a woman who works in Legal?” Pepper deadpans, and Tony grins brightly at her, then at Joyce.

“Dunno,” he says. “Am I?”

Joyce is totally charmed, but she’s trying to hide it. Tony can tell. He’s very familiar with this look, because it is the look that 90% of people wear in response to his behaviour. “If we could get back to the topic at hand, Dr. Stark.”

“I dunno,” Jamie Gaughan from Marketing says, looking a little conflicted. He’s actually Irish from Ireland, and speaks a handful of Gaelic, which Tony finds pretty hot honestly. That’s probably problematic, or something, so he isn’t going to say anything about it. Pepper looks like she knows, anyway. “Isn’t that…trading on stereotypes?”

“Well, there’s a long history of Irish Americans in the firefighting business,” Tony says, “but sure, I mean. I’m just the engineer, here. I’m Italian and German. So you guys tell me.”

“No sexy firefighters,” Joyce says firmly. “What about construction? That’s tangentially related to what SI does, if we focus on Irish-American contributions to American infrastructure.”

“50% of the workers on the Erie Canal were of Irish heritage,” Tony says automatically, because he spent way too much time on Google last night. Everyone at the table looks at him. “Um. Can we make an Erie Canal float? Is that weird?”

Joyce makes a face, and Tony tries again.

“Well, okay,” he says. “How about the Brooklyn Bridge? A huge amount of Irish workers died during construction from the bends, and they haven’t really been honoured properly.”

“That…sounds kind of awesome, actually,” Grace Kilcommons says. She works in WebDev, and could not be gayer if she was wrapped in rainbow flags. Tony approves especially of her suspenders. He’s of the opinion that outside of Steve Rogers and butch dykes, suspenders look terrible and hipster and should be banned from the city. “What if we put together a kind of hodgepodge of Irish American contributions to the NYC landscape? The canal, the Empire State Building, the Old Croton Dam…”

“That sounds appealingly difficult,” Tony says, grinning, because he can totally see it. “Ooh, and it’ll light up!”

“I need your promise that this project will not blow up,” Joyce says immediately, because Tony has a reputation, and it is well-earned. “In writing.”

“Scout’s honour?” Tony says, but Joyce looks unimpressed. Amused, but unimpressed. “I promise?”

“I like that idea,” Jamie says, and Pepper nods.

“Awesome! One enormous architectural Frankenstein coming up,” Tony says, clapping his hands together. “Think you can source a team of minions for me?”

“How many do you need?” Joyce asks.

“As many as you can give me,” Tony says, and Joyce hums and turns to her tablet.

“This is gonna be great,” Grace says, and Tony winks at her.

“We’ll get the paperwork cleared away,” Pepper says, nodding at Jaime. “Please don’t blow anything up.”

“Scout’s honour!” Tony calls, already drawing up schematics and consulting with Grace about some minor software concerns. “What if we can get the lights to blink in tandem with speakers?”

“We can have some people put together a playlist!”

“Too bad this is happening during the day,” Jaime says, and Tony blinks.

“Well,” he says. “We could park it in the Memorial Park.”

“No,” Pepper says, because she can immediately see where this is going. “Tony, we are not having a party-“

“We had one for Lunar New Year,” he points out.

“We have thousands of Asian-American employees,” Pepper says, but he knows that tone. She’s already giving in.

“We had lion dances almost throughout the whole building,” Tony says stubbornly. “Which, hey, I don’t want bad spirits haunting my employees while they’re trying to work. I’m a big fan of multiculturalism. I live with an actual alien from another world.”

“We could turn it into an educational initiative,” Jaime says. “Host some informational booths.”

“Food vendors,” Grace adds, and Pepper throws up her hands.

“I am not planning a party,” she says, trying for firm. “Tony.”

“That’s okay,” Grace says, flapping a hand. “We’ll take care of everything!”

Pepper presses her lips together. She spears Tony with a searing look. “I am going to regret this.”

“No, you won’t,” he says.

She probably will, but Tony’s not going to tell her that to her face.

 

* * *

 

The truth is, Tony usually hates Saint Patrick’s Day in New York.

Firstly, he’s olive-skinned as his mother, so green is really not his colour. More than that, it’s not even a good green. It’s the kind of green that looks bad on everyone. And _everyone_ gets sloppy drunk, not just Irish-Americans, which hey, speaking of trading on stereotypes and problematic stuff, that should definitely be a bigger issue. It’s impossible to get anywhere without getting sticky goop on your shoes from all the spilled alcohol. And what was the deal with the felt hats? Felt was awful, and staticky, and had never looked good on anyone. It was like his entire beautiful city became disgusting and ugly for a whole day _on purpose_.

But Pepper was right; he’s always better with a short deadline and a big project to work on. And he’s having a lot of fun building this float.

“Hey, where do you want this?”

Unfortunately, the curse had definitely counted Steve’s comment about Tony finding him when he was ready as a command, which was why Steve was here, lifting huge plates of plexiglass with his ridiculous biceps and generally being attractive and gregarious and puppyish all over the damn place. Steve had been delighted to hear about the project, being an Irish-American himself of course, and had come to feed Tony at the height of his engineering craze. Within two hours, the team had nominated him as the Grand Marshal of the SI Saint Patrick’s Day Parade Float, complete with a sash they’d made from swathes of plastic they’d salvaged from the plexi packaging and a terrible cardboard crown.

“Here,” Tony says, gesturing with the glass cutter he’s holding before realising that’s probably a bad idea. “Why did I decide to make the Empire State Building a to-scale model?”

“Because you’re a masochist,” Steve says easily, setting the plexi sheet down. “The last shipment of balsa just came in. Where do you want it?”

“Beth, please tell me this is actually a beneficial loss-leader,” Tony yells across the room, but he’s mostly kidding.

“I’m security, boss,” Bethany Cabe, Head of Avengers Security, says cheerfully. “Not my division.”

“Don’t you quote Sherlock at me, Cabe,” he shouts, waving his glass cutter again.

“I dunno,” she purrs. Tony glances up to see the redhead tapping her chin, an exaggerated look of contemplation crossing her face. “An impossible genius, his blond war-veteran partner, and the long-suffering cop who has to mind them…”

“I resent that remark, Ms. Cabe,” Steve says, but he’s grinning, and Tony throws his hands up and turns his attention back to cutting plexiglass into the hundreds of uniform rectangles that will make up the Empire State Building’s many windows. “Isn’t Watson the minder, and the detective the one who instigates all of Sherlock’s shenanigans?”

“Ouch,” Beth says, laughing. “Where’s your Saint Patty’s Day spirit, Cap? We’re both Irish. Tony’s the interloper.”

Steve laughs, bright blue eyes skittering over to Tony. They’re crinkled with a familiar kind of grin, the kind of grin that always ends in Tony and Steve doing something that SHIELD or Pepper will yell at them for, later.

“Kiss me, I’m Irish,” Steve deadpans, rolling his eyes, and oh, that’s-

It was conspiratorial. Tony knows that, rationally. Cap was making a joke, about Irish stereotypes and disingenuous displays of ethnic pride, and yet. And yet, Tony finds himself leaning up, Steve’s eyes widening, those bright baby blues gleaming under the harsh worktop lights Tony’s set up to illuminate his work station.

At the last second, Tony shifts, going for the cheek. It’s the only thing he can do, because Steve didn’t specify a location, and he’ll be damned if he gets his lights punched out by Captain America in the middle of a garage surrounded by SI employees while they work on a goddamn Saint Patrick’s Day parade float. Steve turns with him, as though magnetised, and in the end he catches the corner of his mouth. It’s terrible, Tantalus’ fingers grazing the cool rim of the glass before it’s yanked out of reach, and Tony feels the breath punch out of him in a rush at the shock of it. Just that barest hint of chapped lips, and Tony can hear blood roaring in his ears.

Distantly, Tony can hear Beth cackling something about Tony calling Steve’s bluff, but he isn’t listening to her, really. He’s watching Steve as he pulls back, the bright red blush skittering over his cheeks, the way he looks completely poleaxed. And maybe, just a little disappointed.

“Huh,” Tony says, because that can’t be right. “Um.”

“Can I talk to you for a second?” Steve says, and then he’s taking Tony by the elbow and dragging him off, and that’s just-

“Uh, Cap, kinda working-”

“Give me five minutes,” Steve says firmly, and well. Tony has to go with him, now, doesn’t he?

“You do know that everyone just saw me kiss you, and now you’re dragging me off to the back stairwell like you’re planning to ravish me caveman style, right?” Tony asks, stumbling behind Steve. “I mean, just saying, not sure what you were expecting that to look like, but-”

Steve pulls open the stairwell door and pushes Tony ahead of him, letting the door slam shut behind them even as he’s crowding Tony up against the wall.

“I am,” Steve says, and then he’s kissing Tony, pressing him up against the concrete and leaning down to lip gently at Tony’s mouth. He’s tentative at first, testing, and Tony freezes in bemused terror, fingers clenching reflexively around the meat of Steve’s biceps. Steve pulls back, eyes wild. “Tell me you want this, too. Tell me I wasn’t wrong.”

“I want this, too,” Tony repeats, fury and fear twisting nastily in his chest as the words are ripped from his throat. “You weren’t wrong.”

“Thank God,” Steve whispers, and then he’s leaning back in, and there’s nothing tentative about that. His mouth is everywhere, hot and warm and wet, and Tony opens his lips under Steve’s because he doesn’t know what else to do. This is wrong, part of him knows, and he has no idea what’s going on, but that wasn’t a lie. He’s wanted Steve for years, longer than he even knows, probably. He just didn’t think he could have him.

Steve’s mouth trails up his jaw, his tongue dipping into Tony’s ear and turning his knees to jelly. One arm slips around Tony’s waist, one hand hooks his knee, and then he’s being held open against the wall, legs spread, pinned like a moth to a board with Steve moaning into his mouth. He twines his fingers into Steve’s hair, something he’s always wanted to do, and the rasp of a sharp edge of cardboard slicing into his knuckles pulls him out of the moment.

The cardboard crown falls to the floor as Tony tugs sharply at Steve’s hair to get his attention.

When Steve pulls back, his mouth is red and gleaming wet. He looks utterly debauched, and Tony can feel his hips rock forward without his meaning to at the sight.

“Fuck,” he hisses. “Um. What is happening?”

“If you don’t know, we’re both in trouble,” Steve says, a wry smile cresting over his face like the sun, and that’s just not fair. “Tony, you…God, how long?”

Tony blinks at him. “I don’t understand,” he admits, and Steve frowns at him. Then his expression shifts, something dark and pained taking over him.

“Oh,” he says, stiffening. “Is this…do you not, um.” He stops, pulling back further, until Tony begins to slide down the wall a little. Tony grabs on, clutching at his shoulders, and Steve stops. He looks adorably confused, but mostly sad. “Tony, I’ve…you don’t _know_?”

“It would help if you finished a sentence,” Tony says gently, and Steve barks out a pained laugh.

“Right. Tony, I…” He stops, takes a breath. That familiar, stubborn bravery Tony loves and hates in equal measure takes over him, and then his chin comes up. His hand tightens around Tony’s thigh, and it’s delicious enough that Tony’s eyes flutter shut for just the barest half of a second.

“Steve,” he breathes, and _oh yes_ , he can see Steve’s pupils dilate.

“Tony,” Steve rasps. “You can’t tell me you didn’t know.”

And, fuck, that’s a command. “Uh,” Tony says, mind scrambling. “I don’t-” Nope. “Are you-… I’ve…” Steve shifts, and Tony lets out a low moan, suddenly aware he’s painfully hard between them. “Fuck, it’s…kind of hard to think when you’re blowing my mind with how fucking hot you are, Cap.”

“Tony,” Steve hisses, caging Tony in with his body, and that’s really very nice. “Please tell me this isn’t just sex.”

“Oh,” Tony says, and then, “this isn’t just sex.” Fucking spell. “I…” He stops, trying to get his bearings between the curse and Steve’s body pressing him up against the cool concrete of the garage wall. The plastic sash crinkles under Tony’s grasping fingers, slick and sliding as Tony’s hands sweat a bit from desire and hours of physical labour. Steve’s shoulders are hot and hard beneath his hands, and they shift with every breath he takes.

“I’ve been in love with you,” Steve says, and Tony blinks because _what the fuck_ , “for years, Tony. So if you don’t feel that way about me, I…” He swallows, visibly steeling himself, and Tony watches his throat move with heat pooling in his groin. “I can’t do this once. I can’t…I can’t be a one and done.”

“Steve,” Tony says, and for a moment, everything is crystal clear. Steve’s eyelashes are wet, dark gleaming bronze around the azure of his irises. He looks hopeful, all-Americana sweet and beautiful in Tony’s arms. He looks like everything Tony’s ever wanted for years. “I could never be done with you.”

Steve makes a sound like he’s been shot—Tony would know, he’s heard both—and then leans in, taking Tony’s mouth like he’s sieging an AIM base. His tongue drags filthy over Tony’s upper lip, flicking over the corner of his mouth before dipping inside and curling slow against Tony’s. Steve kisses like he’s starving and Tony is blessed ambrosia, like Tony’s the best thing he’s ever tasted, a low moan rumbling through his broad barrel of a chest and into Tony’s. Tony does his best to give as good as he’s getting, but Steve just wrenches away with a wet sound that goes straight to Tony’s cock and gathers his wrists in one hand, jerking the sash off and holding it against Tony’s wrists.

“Please, just let me,” Steve says, and Tony blinks at him, because that was a command. That was a command, and it’s pretty damn open-ended.

“Go ahead,” Tony says, finally, and that seems to satisfy the spell well enough. The expression that overtakes Steve’s mouth is greedy, more wicked than Tony would have expected from Cap, but he’s absolutely not upset to find out that Steve’s a little more kinky than his sweet, all-American exterior might suggest.

Steve presses a grateful kiss to his mouth, his jaw, his pulse point. Then he wraps Tony’s wrists in the make shift sash. It’s not quite enough that Tony can’t get out of it, but it’s enough to remind Tony to keep his hands to himself. He hooks his tied arms back around Steve’s neck just to be contrary, reeling him in for a kiss, and Steve goes with a happy hum.

“Let me take care of you,” he says against Tony’s mouth, and _wow_. That’s.

“ _Fuck_.”

The snare of the curse is this: Tony wants to give himself to Steve wholeheartedly. He wants to lie bare and let Steve take him over, wants to be taken, wants to be _wanted_. Tony does not want to do this under the power of some other master. He does not want to give in because he has no choice. He wants to give in because Steve is handsome and glowing, all clotted cream and hair like wheat, eyes sky-blue and unbelievably happy. He wants to let Steve put his wet, red mouth all over his skin, to let Steve mark him up, to let him fuck Tony until he sobs.

“I don’t like commands,” Tony bites out, because that-…well, frankly, is an egregious fucking lie 99% of the time. He’s no stranger to power play, and he’s more than happy to take commands in the bedroom, or give them besides. But still. He keeps himself pliant, enough that Steve can move him how he wants, and hopes that’s enough for the spell to be satisfied. _Steve can’t take care of me if he’s doing something I don’t like_ , he tells himself, and when nothing further happens, he lets out a soft huff of relief.

“Sorry,” Steve says, muscles locking up, and Tony keeps his thighs tight around Steve’s waist. “I- I’m sorry.” That familiar blotchy blush begins to spread down his neck. “I…is this okay?”

“More than,” Tony says warmly, leaning forward to nose gently at Steve’s jaw. “Feel free to keep going, soldier boy. I’m enjoying being manhandled by all this American muscle. If high school Tony could see me now, he’d cream his pants.”

“Isn’t high school Tony twelve?” Steve asks, sounding a little horrified.

“Shh,” Tony whispers, leaning in for a kiss. “I thought you were gonna take care of me? Hmm, Captain? Gonna tie me up and have your way with me? Gonna make me scream in this _incredibly echo-y stairwell?_ Gonna show everyone that I’m yours-”

The kiss that cuts him off is biting and laced with a throaty groan, Steve’s fingers gripping his thigh so hard it’s going to leave a perfect five-point bruise dotted into the skin. Tony’s fingers scrabble at Steve’s shirt, and then his own t-shirt is being pulled up and over his head, coming to wrap around his wrists over the plastic. Steve’s gaze on his body is ravenous, calloused fingers dragging slow over Tony’s stomach, tracing around the top of his waistband and over the sensitive jut of Tony’s hipbone. The shock of pleasure is enough to make Tony’s head knock back into the wall, and Steve immediately moves to Tony’s neck, biting along his jaw. He unbuttons Tony’s jeans one-handed and pulls them down, over the curve of his ass until they can’t go any farther.

“Oh, god,” Tony gasps, and his wrists are still caught. He’s pinned, helpless and desperate as Steve’s hands slide over his stomach, his back, the swell of his ass. “Gonna strip me right here, where anyone can walk in-”

“Tony,” Steve groans, and then he’s easing Tony’s legs down.

“I don’t think I can stand-” Tony begins, but Steve keeps a firm hand on his wrists, holding Tony pinned flush against the wall. He pulls Tony’s dusty shop jeans down until they’re pooled around his ankles. The low growl of want that looses from his throat at the sight of Tony mostly naked and hard in front of him is half-feral, and Tony can feel his cock twitch under Steve’s hungry gaze.

He leans down to suck a mark in the hollow between Tony’s left ear and the straining tendon beneath it, and Tony goes utterly limp under his mouth.

“Gonna be good to me, baby?” Tony babbles, because he couldn’t stop if he tried. “Gonna- _fuck, Steve-_ ”

“Yeah,” Steve whispers, and then he’s lifting, pushing Tony up the wall and ducking down until his knees are hooked over Steve’s broad, steady shoulders.

“Holy fucking mother of God,” Tony gasps, and he has half a second to appreciate the smug quirk to Steve’s mouth until it is absolutely otherwise occupied. “Oh my _God_ , Steve, Steve please, _ohfuck_ -”

Steve hums around Tony’s cock, tongue writhing filthy against the underside, and Tony can’t. Think. Steve’s hands are firm and unyielding against Tony’s waist, holding him perfectly where Steve wants him as he buries his nose into the coarse hair between Tony’s legs and breathes in deep.

“Ohmygod,” Tony is saying, keeps saying, because he’s never been with someone who could do this to him. He’s been fucked against the wall before, sure, but Steve’s got Tony’s thighs over his shoulders and is holding him six feet up the wall like it’s nothing. Tony’s ankles are still trapped by his jeans pooled above his sneakers. His wrists are tied, and he is absolutely at Steve’s mercy. Who knew Captain America was such a kinky motherfucker?

“Oh, _Captain_ , you really like this, huh? Having me at your mercy?” Tony gasps, trying to get his wits about him. “Jesus, you’ve got the mouth of a pro-”

Steve pulls off of his cock with a sound that’s going to haunt Tony until he dies, he swears to God. “If you’re still talking, I’m not as good as I want to be,” he says, voice wrecked, and Tony can’t help but whine a little bit. Steve noses at Tony’s sac, sucking at the soft skin there before he tilts Tony’s hips up a little, dipping back father. “Maybe I should kiss you here.”

“Hooooly fuck,” Tony breathes, because that’s. That’s.

“What do you think?” Steve asks, eyes crinkling as a wicked grin overtakes him. Tony’s mouth is moving, but no words are coming out, instead just gaping open and closed like a fish. “Hmm. Did I finally shut off that gorgeous brain of yours?”

“Dirty,” Tony manages, and Steve grins. It’s unacceptably boyish considering the circumstances, and Tony knows he’s in trouble when he can still think that Steve’s adorable in a situation as mind-numbingly hot as this one.

“That’s kinda the idea.”

“No,” Tony says. “I…I’ve been working. I haven’t showered.”

“I don’t mind,” Steve says, and Tony swallows audibly. _Wow_. “Let- uh. Can I?”

Later, Tony will be inordinately glad that Steve stopped himself from demanding that Tony let him tonguefuck him after he’d been working for twenty hours straight in the garage without a shower or sleep. Much later. For now, he grips his fingers in Steve’s hair and gasps, dizzying oxygen skittering through his sparking neurons and setting off fireworks behind his eyes.

“Next time,” Tony says, shakily. He’s tempted. He’s definitely, 100% tempted. “Not right now. Please.”

“Okay, Tony,” Steve says, visibly disappointed. He turns and sucks a painful bruise into Tony’s thigh, a low growl building in his throat. “The things I want to do to you.”

“Anything,” Tony promises recklessly. “Let me shower, and you can have me however you want. As many times as you want. Steve-!”

Tony gasps as Steve swallows him down again, straight to the root. The low moan that vibrates around his cock is enough to make him boneless, his whole body slumping forward. Steve slides one hand around, reaching up to press Tony back into the wall. His broad palm presses flat over Tony’s sternum, covering the mess of scars there, and Tony groans at the feeling, the sight of the tendons of Steve’s arm flexing to hold him in place even as his head bobs on Tony’s cock.

“Steve,” Tony gasps, tugging ineffectually at Steve’s hair. “Steve, I’m- _shit_ -”

His orgasm rips through him with the kind of violent force that whites out his vision. Distantly he can hear Steve moaning around his cock, his fingers digging sharply into Tony’s chest. His other hand is curled sweet and firm over the top of Tony’s left thigh, and it’s gripping tight enough that Tony’s sure to have an absolutely spectacular bruise tomorrow. Tony wants it to bruise. He kind of wants to tattoo the bruises on so he’ll have a permanent reminder of how fucking incredible and lifechanging this orgasm has been. He feels very strongly about this. He genuinely can’t feel his extremities.

“Oh,” he gasps, squirming, “too much.”

Steve pulls off immediately, a sheepish expression warring with one of absolute satiated smugness. “Mm,” he says, pillowing his head on Tony’s thigh, and Tony can’t deal with that.

“This is a plot, right?” he asks, and Steve’s brow furrows. “To kill me. Because, that’s definitely what’s gonna happen, if we’re doing this regularly. Death by baffling, incredible orgasms. I can actually feel the lost braincells- ouch!”

Steve grins around the mouthful of thigh he’s taken the liberty of helping himself to. It hurts, and Tony tugs at his hair in recompense. “No one offs,” he reminds Tony, and Tony smiles helplessly down at him.

“Yeah,” he says. And then he squirms, because now that he’s not hard and desperate, this position is a little…exposed, for his tastes. “Uh, can I…come down, now?”

“But I like the view,” Steve complains, eyes half-lidded and gorgeous, and Tony wants him. He wants him now, again.

“I want to touch you,” Tony says, and Steve freezes. A blush works its way across the bridge of his nose, over his cheeks. “Steve?”

“I, um.”

Tony blinks at him. “Did you…come? Already?” He takes a moment, fighting the broad grin that wants to break over his face. “Did you come from blowing me, because that’s honestly the best thing I’ve ever heard-”

“You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about this,” Steve says, burying his face into the crease of Tony’s thigh. His breath tickles and tantalises all at once. “You- God, your _face_. The sounds you made, your mouth…”

Tony whimpers. He’ll cop to it. He totally, 100% whimpers at the way Steve sounds half-drunk just talking about how hot his reactions to being blown halfway up a wall were.

“Tony,” Steve murmurs, and Tony’s hips rock forward of their own accord. “Christ.”

“Let me down,” Tony says, and Steve reluctantly takes hold of his waist and lifts up, ducking out from between Tony’s thighs. “My god.”

“Yeah?” Steve says, caught halfway between bashfulness and what is clearly smug, alpha-male posturing. He settles for a smirk paired with a raging hot blush, one that disappears under his neckline.

“I didn’t even get to touch you,” Tony says, shimmying his hips a little to get his pants and boxers back up and over them in one go while his hands are still tied. The look in Steve’s eyes as he watches is nothing short of ravenous.

“Next time,” he says.

“And, when is that gonna be?” Tony frowns, holding out his wrists. “Are you gonna do something about this?”

Steve hums, considering. “It’s a good view.”

“I am on deadline, Steven,” Tony begins, and Steve laughs. He takes Tony’s tied wrists in his hands, untangling his t-shirt and pulling it back over Tony’s head, his shoulders. He breaks the plastic wrap with one firm tug.

Immediately, Tony reaches out, smoothing his hands up Steve’s chest and over his shoulders. “You’re a cruel man, Rogers, depriving me of all this.”

“Now you know how I feel,” he counters. “Watching you in the workshop with your shirt off, smeared up and down with grease and dripping with sweat…”

“Should I offer to let you fuck me on the hood of my car?” Tony jokes, but the way Steve’s eyes darken is in no way jocular. “Oh. You…totally would love that, wow. Holy shit. Which car? No, don’t answer that right now, I have to go back into the garage and the mental images, wow, no. You’re a filthy fuck, this is _amazing_ -”

Steve leans in, taking Tony’s mouth in a slow, drugging kiss. It’s enough to make Tony moan quietly into his mouth, and when he pulls back, Steve looks like he’s ready for a second round.

“I have to get back to work on the float.”

Steve looses a wet laugh. “You look…debauched.”

“Well,” Tony hedges, “you said this wasn’t a one and done. So.”

“It’s not,” Steve says, serious now. He leans in until their foreheads knock together, nose gently brushing against Tony’s. “I almost can’t believe this. I thought-… I kinda thought you knew, and were just…ignoring it, or-”

“So when you pulled me in here?” Tony asks, curious now.

“I knew you wouldn’t do something that cruel,” Steve explains. “I know you care about me, Tony. You wouldn’t have kissed me unless you meant it.”

It’s like a bucket of cold water. Tony had _no control_ over that kiss. What if he hadn’t had feelings for Steve? Sure, everything worked out this time, but this is-

He shouldn’t sleep with Steve again while he’s like this. It isn’t fair to either of them.

“Ugh,” Tony says, and Steve frowns at him.

“What?”

“I, just,” Tony babbles. Think, _think_. “If this were any other day I’d lock us up in the penthouse and cancel all my meetings for a week.” Steve lets out a small growl, just loud enough to send a skittering shiver down Tony’s spine. “But I can’t. I have this float, and I won’t really have time, and I want to take you out properly-”

“I don’t need anything fancy,” Steve is saying, but Tony shakes his head.

“I fuck a lot of people,” Tony says flatly. It’s a ploy, a way to make Steve wince, to make him listen. It’s unkind, and he hates it, but it’s what he needs to do. “That’s not what you want.”

“No, but-”

“Then let’s do this right, okay?” He’s pleading, he knows he is, but he doesn’t like this feeling squirming in his stomach. Now that the sex haze is gone, it’s just him and the knowledge that if Steve had said something in the heat of the moment, Tony would have been unable to say no. He can’t imagine a situation where he’d want to say no, but Steve was proving to be marvellously, gloriously surprising when it came to sex. Tony has no interest in watersports, or ageplay, or furries, and he doesn’t want to take any chances.

Steve is watching him, that observant gaze that has been the death of Tony’s posturing more than once sending his pulse skittering.

“This matters to you,” Steve says, sounding a little bemused, and Tony frowns.

“I know I have a reputation for being kind of a slut,” he begins, but Steve holds a hand up to silence him.

“Okay, Tony,” he says. He cracks a small smile. “Just don’t make me wait too long, okay?”

Fuck.

“Sure,” Tony says, forcing a smile.

Steve frowns. “What is going on with you?”

“Nothing!” Tony says. “I’ve gotta go.”

And then he ducks under Steve’s arm, heading for the stairwell door.

“Tony-!”

Tony’s stepping back out into the garage before Steve can grab him, his heart pounding double time in his chest. Steve won’t follow him, he knows; there had been an incredibly noticeable wet spot on the front of his slacks, and there’s no way he’s going to walk out into the throng of SI employees with a fresh jizz stain in his crotch.

Outside, Beth looks up from where she’s measuring a length of balsa against the table saw. Her expression shifts from amusement, through shock, then delight, and finally, into worry.

“Tony?” she says, stepping away from the table. Tony glances at the rest of the SI employees, who are studiously not looking at him even as they whisper amongst themselves. Beth doesn’t even spare them a glance as she draws closer. “Are you alright?”

“I don’t know,” he says, smoothing a hand over his face. He takes a slow breath, letting it out from between his fingers. “Sorry. Yes. I’m ready to work.”

“You…don’t look very ready,” Beth says, frowning. She takes him by the elbow. “I kinda wasn’t expecting you back today. Tony-”

“I _need_ to finish this,” Tony says widening his eyes meaningfully, and Beth stares at him for a long moment. Her eyes narrow as she takes in Tony’s appearance paired with the fervour of his demands.

“Did something happen that you’re unhappy about?” she asks carefully, and Tony immediately shakes his head.

“Not like that,” he says. He laughs a little incredulously, because, _Captain America_. Then he’s just warm, because Beth looks ready to _fight_ _Captain America_ for a _bad touch_ on _Tony’s word_ , and if that’s not true loyalty he really doesn’t know what is. “Wow. Just, uh. Let’s just get the Empire State Building done today, okay? Then we’ll only have the Bridge left. Grace’s team is gonna come in and paint tomorrow morning.”

“And you need to sleep,” Beth says firmly, eyes narrowed. Tony offers her a sheepish grin.

“Maybe?”

“Tony,” Beth says warningly, a tone Tony remembers well from when they were together. It’s a tone that means that either he does things the easy way, or Beth will _make_ him do it the hard way.

“Yup, sleep, you’re totally right,” he says nodding, and Beth rolls her eyes at him.

“Don’t think we’re not talking about this later,” she warns him, and Tony nods again. “I take it that Cap’s not coming back?”

Tony grins, and lets himself be smug because that’s what Beth would expect. “He needed a shower,” he says breezily, waving a hand and walking back towards his work station. “All that lifting and carrying. He worked up a real sweat.”

“I’m sure,” Beth drawls, but her eyes are bright with amusement. “I guess I owe Natasha fifty bucks.”

“Bethie! So high!” Tony laughs, picking up the glass cutter again. “You must have been pretty sure of yourself when you bet.”

“I bet Steve would be the one to make a move,” Beth says. “That was pretty smooth of you, though, good job. I concede with grace.”

Ah.

Something must flick over his face, because Beth turns back to him with a searching expression. “Did you…do that by accident?” she says, and Tony lets out a rough breath because _damn_.

Beth’s always been observant and stubborn, though. If she wasn’t, she wouldn’t have been able to drag Tony out of the bottle, kicking and screaming the whole way. As inconvenient as it makes his life sometimes, Tony will always love her for that, sure as the way he loves Pep or Rhodey or Happy. It’s why he hired her for Avengers’ security in the first place.

“Maybe,” he says, mostly because he needs to tell _someone_ , and he certainly can’t tell Steve.

Beth covers her mouth, hilarity lighting her face. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Tony says again, snapping the next section of windows apart one by one. “Oh.”

“Well,” she drawls, tapping one fingernail against the worktop. “All’s well that ends well?”

Tony shrugs, and Beth eyes him curiously.

“You know I’m going to figure this out.”

“Nothing to figure out,” he huffs. “And it’s not Steve’s fault, so don’t start on him either.”

Beth stares at him for a moment, then shrugs. She turns, heading back towards the table saw. “You’re very transparent and a terrible liar.”

“Only to you!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will update the 2nd half next week, for Saint Patty's Day proper :P


	2. for truth hath better deeds than words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised! Happy St. Patrick's Day, even if I'm kinda with Tony on the ugh drunk people and problematic stereotypes train. Enjoy responsibly, etc. etc..
> 
> CW: for major discussions of sexual assault. r word is used. then there's some explicit make-up sex. stay safe y'all.

Days pass, and Strange doesn’t call. Tony leaves two more messages at the Sanctum, increasing in their urgency, but there’s nothing else he can think to do but wait. Briefly, he considers going to someone else, but the fewer people that know about this the better. Also, the only powerful, active magic user he can find in NYC right now seems to be Nico Minoru of all people, which is just…not happening. Ever.

Steve eventually shows back up at the garage to work, watching Tony with a calculating expression that makes him unaccountably nervous. He tries to strike a good balance between coy flirtation and genuine exhaustion, but he doesn’t think he manages it. Worse, he catches Beth whispering furiously at Steve later while the man looks equal parts embarrassed and indignant. They both stop talking immediately, but Tony knows exactly what that’s about.

Unfortunately, to the surprise of absolutely no one, he does not make good on his decision to keep his hands off of Steve.

“I’m sorry,” is the first thing Cap says to him when they’re alone. Tony had done the best he could to avoid this exact set of circumstances, but eventually the rest of the SI employees had to go home. Most of them had their actual jobs to do, and were volunteering time here and there when they could to make the project work. Beth was the only other person who’d been there half as often as Tony, mostly because like Tony, she was high up enough in SI that she was able to delegate her tasks out a bit.

“For what?” Tony asks. He’s soldering the boards for the light relays, and thus has a perfectly valid reason to avoid looking at Steve at all.

“I- can you stop doing that and look at me?”

Well, there went that. He shuts off the soldering iron with a huff, putting it to the side and flipping up his goggles. The expression he offers Steve must be bad, because he winces, reaching out to rub at Tony’s cheek. His thumb comes away black.

“I…what I said wasn’t right,” Steve says, and Tony blinks heavy eyes at him, stifling a yawn. “I didn’t mean to imply…it’s none of my business, or. It wasn’t. It wasn’t any of my business how many people you were sleeping with, or have slept with, although I’d _like_ it to be my business who you sleep with in the future, so-”

“What are you talking about?” Tony asks, baffled, and Steve frowns at him.

“You’re not…upset because I implied that you’re, um. Promiscuous, and that, uh-”

“I called myself a slut,” Tony says, slowly, and Steve clears his throat, looking uncomfortable. “I openly reclaim that label for myself all the time, Cap.”

“Then why are you upset?” Steve asks, eyes narrowing, and _oh, shit_.

“I’m…” Tony swallows, licking his lips. Steve’s eyes follow the motion, and for a breath or two the tension between them ratchets, shifts sideways and solidifies into dark desire creeping out from an unexpected corner and catching Tony ‘round the waist. His face feels hot, and Steve is definitely blushing, blotchy and red and unfairly adorable. “God, Steve, you know I’m no good at this.”

“You’ve dated more folks than I can count,” Steve says, and Tony raises his eyebrows.

“That’s kind of my point,” he says, and Steve rolls his eyes.

“Tony, I’ve never been in a traditional, long-term relationship in my entire life,” he says, and that’s. Huh. “I’m not asking you to be good at dating. I already know you, Tony. We already know we get along, that we can work well together, that we can share a home, that we, uh.”

“Love each other?” Tony prompts, quiet, and Steve lets out a rough breath and leans in, pressing Tony back against the workbench and kissing him, thoroughly.

So they’d ended up fucking, because apparently Captain America always being prepared meant carrying lube when you were going to confront the man you were in love with about why he was being so shifty recently.

Steve was a fascinating, complicated combination of guilty and avaricious about the bruises he’d left on Tony the first time they’d had sex. He kept ghosting his fingers over them, gentle and adoring, but he’d apologised, too.

“I like them,” Tony had told him, but Steve had just shook his head, pressing tender kisses to Tony’s thighs, his hip.

Needless to say, it’s with serious misgivings that Tony finds himself inviting Steve out to dinner the day after the parade.

“What are you doing?” he asks himself, staring at his phone where, yup, he’s just sent Steve a text asking him to choose between pizza and Sichuan. “Why the hell did I do that?”

“If I may, sir, the captain asked that you not to make him wait too long. As that is the first open slot in your schedule for a date-”

“Fuck,” Tony snarls, throwing his phone across the bed so that it bounces, landing face up on the other side. He scrubs his hands over his face. “No word from Strange yet?”

“I will tell you as soon as I hear anything from or about him,” JARVIS says, for what feels like the millionth time. “Sir, I strongly suggest that you seek the help of another magic-user. Mr. Odinson, at the very least-”

“I know that Loki’s sort of less-evil right now,” Tony says, “but I seriously don’t trust him to undo a mind-control spell on me.”

“Perhaps Mr. Odinson will have some advice for you on how to cure the spell, or someone else you might consult,” JARVIS says stubbornly. “I understand your hesitance to speak to someone you are not allied with, but this has gone on for weeks now, sir. It is affecting your relationship with Captain Rogers and the rest of the team, as well as your overall health. Your attempts to avoid him by virtue of being too busy to spend time together is forcing you to overwork yourself. You are exhibiting signs of stress and exhaustion.”

Tony huffs, folding his arms across his chest. “If you can tell me, honestly, that telling one of the team won’t get me benched…”

“Sir,” JARVIS says, hesitant, “perhaps you ought to not be in the field for now. We do not have definitive proof that the only thing affected by this spell is your relationship to Captain Rogers. What if you are forced to obey anyone who looks like him? Or anyone dressed as Captain America? Or anyone you are sufficiently attracted to?”

“I still think Beth is hot, and I don’t have to do what she says. Same for Pepper. And anyway,” Tony says, incensed now, “who’s side are you on, anyway? You know I could have saved that woman-”

“There was a statistical possibility, sir, but your chances of being severely injured were also quite high,” JARVIS says, and Tony throws up his hands.

“We’re not talking about this,” he says, and JARVIS subsides. As he must, because in the end, he is Tony’s AI. “Keep an ear to the ground for Strange. I’m not fucking telling the team. I refuse to be taken off the field when it’s Cap’s orders that stopped me from saving lives.”

“As you wish, sir,” JARVIS says, and it’s equal parts snide and worried. Tony scrubs a hand through his hair, frustrated. “Miss Van Dyne has left you another message, as has Agent Romanov.”

“Of course the girls know something’s up,” Tony mutters. “Fuck. Call Strange again?”

“Calling, sir.”

Tony waits, frowning when it goes to voicemail again. He doesn’t know why there’s no one home to pick up the phone at all, not even Wong or Clea.

“Hey,” Tony says when the machine beeps, “it’s me. Again. Obviously. Dunno what’s going on, but uh, should I be worried? About you, I mean, because hey, this is pretty wild, literally no one being home to guard the Sanctum. Anyway, uh, I guess maybe I should send out a search party if a month passes? What’s the unacceptable timeline for your dimension-hopping sorcerer buddy to be totally AWOL? Please call me back, because this fucking curse is killing me, metaphorically, and _literally_ has gotten some civilians killed. Also, uh. It’s. God, this is embarrassing, but it turns out that Steve has feelings for me, so. Consent is getting a little…grey, and I’d really like to not have that be a problem. Anymore. Or, ever. Um.”

The machine clicks, indicating that Tony’s filled the voice message limit, and Tony drops his head to the worktop wish a gusty sigh. Briefly, he considers re-recording the message, but he doesn’t think he could manage to stomach saying all of that again. It was bad enough the first time.

“Hang up, J,” he says, and then he turns back to the software he’s been writing for the lights on the float. “After this is done, I should probably go over there. Make sure everything’s okay.”

“That might be wise, sir.” Helpfully, JARVIS throws up a list of known magic-wielders on one of the holo-screens, listing Sersi at the top. “You could try someone else?”

“Why do you keep offering these unstable brunettes as solutions to my problem, J?”

“Perhaps I thought that finding someone you might identify with would make you more likely to seek help,” JARVIS snipes, which, wow.

“Uncalled for,” Tony mutters. “Stone cold and uncalled for.”

 

* * *

 

The day of the parade dawns bright and early, and Tony stares across the fields of green with a headache burgeoning strong behind his eyes. The sound is indescribable, echoing fiercely over the brisk city streets in a discordant cacophony of noise that’s hell on his nerves.

Steve is perched on the front of the float, legs hanging over the side. It looks good, Tony’s gotta say. The Empire State building is lit bright and gleaming, the Old Croton Dam and the Brooklyn Bridge framing it on either side. The Old Croton Dam spills real water down into the East River under the bridge, the water on a cycle pump that Tony’s quite proud of considering that this baby has to drive. Steve sits on the front edge in old-fashioned construction worker’s garb, looking every bit a boy of his time and unfairly handsome in his little pageboy cap and coveralls. The employees had put together a playlist of their favourite Irish and Irish American musicians, mostly filled with solid rock standards that are likely to get the crowd going. Jamie and Grace are up there with him, all of them dressed up and sharing coffee in tin cups, and Tony snaps a photo with his phone and sends it to Pepper. They look adorable, honestly, and Tony’s pretty proud of what they’ve managed to get done.

In the back, a huge platform sits, with a little tucked-away hub hidden by backdrop and skyline where Tony will be running the controls. All of the SI team members who were interested have a place on the float, lining the sides all around, and Tony climbs up into the back to do a few last minute checks on everything. He wants to make sure the colours on the Empire State building are going to light up the way he wants them to, and he sits down at his station and runs through a few of the settings just to double check everything is as expected.

“How’s it goin’, boss?”

Tony tips his head up, blinking to find Steve gripping the railing from the outside, feet caught through the rungs. The straps of his coveralls frame his broad shoulders almost like suspenders, and underneath is a faded collared shirt that might very well be Steve’s, damn his sweet old boy sensibilities. The cuffs are rolled up to his elbows, revealing the corded muscle of his forearms. That impossible blond hair’s managed to catch the morning light just so, glancing off enough under his pageboy to make a bit of a halo, and he’s so beautiful Tony could cry just looking at him. He offers Tony a cheeky grin.

“Jesus,” Tony breathes, and Steve’s grin shifts a little, turns just a shade off wicked. Tony wants to eat him alive. Or maybe be eaten. He hasn’t decided, yet. “Please, not the accent.”

“I dunno what you mean, sir,” Steve says, and Tony huffs a helpless laugh. His chest aches with how much he loves this man. “Everything looks tip top up front. Thought I’d see if you needed an extra pair of hands back here.”

“Oh, is that what you were doing?” Tony asks, crooking a finger at him. Steve swings a leg over the rail with a bright grin, then the other, ambling forward with his hands in his pockets. “You know, if you cause any mischief, we’re out in public. Anybody could see you.”

“Who, me?” Steve asks, leaning in closer. His eyes are so bright and blue in the sunny March morning, the cold wind bringing a bit of colour to his high cheekbones. “I’m just doin’ my job, boss.”

"Sure you are,” Tony says, and holds his breath as Steve leans down closer, enough that he can feel his breath on his face.

“This alright?” Steve asks him, and Tony swallows. His fingers twitch on the controls, and he pulls them into his lap.

“Yeah,” Tony tells him, and Steve’s smile sparkles at him, white and gleaming, before he leans in and presses a small kiss to Tony’s nose.

“This was a nice thing you did,” he says, and Tony shrugs. He’s maybe a little dazed. Steve’s blinding like this. Blindingly happy, and so, so gorgeous for it. God, to think he’d done that made his mouth water with wanting. “Faker.”

“What,” Tony says, turning back to the switchboard. It’s mostly so he can stop mooning at Steve like a fucking tween. Embarrassment creeps hot up the back of his neck.

“You never want to let anyone know what a softie you are,” Steve hums, and Tony doesn’t have to look at him to hear the grin in his voice. Steve presses a soft kiss to the back of Tony’s ear, adjusting Tony’s scarf so it better covers his neck and slipping his arms around to hang over Tony’s shoulders. He’s warm where he presses up against Tony’s back. “I know you wanted a date tomorrow, but uh. Are you opposed to dessert before dinner?”

“Why Captain, are you propositioning me?” Tony drawls, and Steve huffs a laugh. Warm air skates over the nape of Tony’s neck, sending a delicious shiver down his spine.

“Yeah,” he says. “We haven’t had much time to ourselves.”

“If I recall, you already had your dessert,” Tony says, and he can feel the rumble of Cap’s laughter move through him from where they’re pressed back to chest. “Twice.”

“I want another piece,” Steve drawls, low, and Tony near about swallows his tongue.

“Oh?”

Steve presses a slow, open-mouthed kiss to the side of Tony’s neck, hot enough to send his pulse skittering. “Liked the taste I got.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Tony breathes.

A loud cough interrupts them, and Steve pulls away, both of them turning. The sight that greets them nearly brings Tony to tears.

“Stephen!” he crows, standing. He spreads his arms out wide. “God, I could fucking hug you. Can I hug you? Are you good? Where the hell have you been? What about Clea and Wong?”

“We were in the Dark Dimension,” Stephen says, frowning. His arms are folded across his chest, storm-grey eyes sharp and narrowed at Steve. “Dealing with a recurrent issue.”

“Dormammu,” Tony says, and Stephen nods. “Well, uh.” He glances at Steve, suddenly wary. “Can we talk…somewhere else?”

“I need Steve, as well,” Stephen says, and Tony blinks at him. “If he is the focus-”

“Nope! Not talking about this right now,” Tony says hysterically, glancing around. The majority of the SI employees are still milling about in the street, mixing with the other parade members, but there are people lining the sidewalks. The control panel is cleverly hidden, mostly for aesthetics, but Tony doesn’t trust the press to not be out with long-range directional mics. People are always so desperate for Avengers gossip.

Stephen glances around them, raising a single eyebrow. Then he shakes his head, and settles into a floating, cross-legged position. “I take it you are required for the parade?”

“I needed a project,” Tony admits, and Stephen glances at Steve, then back to him.

“It doesn’t seem like that was a very successful plan,” he tells Tony.

“Gee, thanks, Dr. Obvious. Really needed your expertise for that.”

“I do not feel comfortable leaving you alone while you are compromised,” Stephen says, ignoring Tony’s jibes. Typical. He’s no fun.

“Tony,” Steve says, sounding resigned, and Tony turns to him with a broad, plastic grin. “What is he talking about?”

“Nothing,” Tony says, and Stephen raises both his eyebrows at him.

“ _Really?_ ” he says, and Tony throws up his hands.

“Please, can we not do this right now?” He points at Stephen. “How the hell was I gonna bring that up?”

“You might have tried saying: we should remain apart until my curse is broken,” Strange deadpans. “Or, maybe: I have been cursed-”

“You were cursed-?” Steve intones, shrilly, and Tony hisses, waving his hands in the air.

“Shut up!” He glances around, peeking at the news cameras very obviously trained on Stephen. They can’t see Tony from where they are, but that doesn’t really matter. “We’re under the eye of the fourth estate right now, remember?”

“I don’t know why I put up with your nonsense,” Stephen sighs, and Tony rolls his eyes. “You explicitly said it was urgent. Many times. Over many messages.”

“Yeah, it is, but now is _not a good time_.”

Stephen surveys the day-drunk and disorderly crowd dispassionately, eyes flicking up to the heavens in a silent and obvious prayer for patience.

“This is more important than your continued-”

“Not more important,” Tony interrupts, before Stephen can say something that will make Cap enter full Mother Hen Mode. “Just unavoidable. I committed to this, and the parade’s only a few hours. I can manage a few more hours.”

Stephen stares at him dispassionately, his lips a thin line of distaste as he glances over Tony’s tech booth. “Then I suppose I am joining your…float,” Stephen says, lips curling disdainfully over the word.

“Great,” Tony says, rolling his eyes. He’s manfully refraining from the easy pun. He hopes that someone’s proud of him for his restraint. And then, because he can’t resist: “Hey… are you Irish?”

 

 

In the years to come, Tony will look back on this day as one of the greatest moments of his life, and not just because of the joy of seeing Steve Rogers in coveralls and a pageboy hat, smiling out at New York City’s green-felted and flag-waving denizens like he was the patron saint of adorable Irish construction workers. No, what he’ll remember forever is the dour face of Stephen Strange, legs crossed, floating petulantly behind Tony’s booth as he wrangles the lights, the music, the colours of the Irish flag flashing up onto the Empire State building’s façade at opportune moments. Stephen’s cloak floats out behind him in a rippling wave, his arms crossed as he glares down at the crowds. He’s not wearing a single stitch of green, and Tony loves him fiercely for being a giant red stain on the drunken Saint Patrick’s Day cheer emanating from the sozzled masses.

Not that he can really throw stones on the drunk front, or even the bad fashion front, but still. Saint Patrick’s Day is a crime against beauty and grace. He feels very strongly about this.

After the parade, the float gets parked in the Memorial Park below Avengers Tower, dedicated to all of the civilian lives lost in the battle against supervillains/alien invaders/vengeful gods/etcetera the world over. Tony had been firm about that when The Avengers had moved in. The SI Saint Patrick’s Day planning committee had been remarkably efficient at getting a small fair kind of thing going, fit as promised with educational information about the history of Irish American immigration and Irish American contributions to New York City. Some booths offer food, and the lawn is crawling with hyper-engaged children ready to pose for photos.

“Can you handle this without me?” Tony asks the team, catching Beth’s eye specifically. “I’ve got some Avengers business to take care of.”

“We figured, what with Doctor Strange trailing our float,” Joyce deadpans, and Tony flashes a grin at her.

“We’ve got this, don’t worry,” Grace tells him. Tony waves a hand at them all.

“Please don’t fuck this up,” he begs. “I’ll never hear the end of it from Pepper.”

“This was incredible fun,” Jaime says, a crooked smile breaking over his face. “Really, everyone had a great time, Dr. Stark. Please don’t worry about us.”

“Alright,” Tony says. He props his hands on his hips, nodding at them. “I’m trusting you miscreants to captain the ship while I’m gone. Don’t crash it, and you’ll all be handsomely rewarded.”

“Sir, yes, sir,” Grace says seriously, offering him a salute. Joyce just rolls her eyes, a small smile pulling at the corners of her mouth.

“Go on,” Beth says. “I’ll keep an eye on them.”

Tony turns, wincing when he sees Steve and Stephen in a heated discussion. Steve’s hands are flailing in the air, impassioned, whereas Stephen is looking at Steve like he’s something that the cloak dragged though and needs to be washed out, post haste.

“So!” Tony crows, clapping his hands together and walking over to them. “Heading to the Sanctorum?”

“Yes,” Strange says shortly. Steve looks incredibly unhappy, and Tony glances at him, head tilted to the side. “I’ve already looked Cap over, and he’s clear. It seems the curse is focussed entirely on you, so we can leave him here.”

Tony blinks, turning to Steve. “Right,” he says, brow furrowing when Steve won’t look at him. “You’re okay with that?”

“Don’t you think that’s for the best?” Steve says dully, which, _shit_.

“You can come if you want,” Tony says, trying to salvage the situation, but Steve’s collapsing in on himself. It’s what he always does when he’s truly upset, making himself small like he’s regretting his size and wants to crawl into his own skin. “Or, I’ll see you tonight?”

“Sure, Tony,” Steve says, and Tony swallows.

“Let’s go,” Stephen prompts, opening a portal, and Tony sucks in a slow breath. He lets it out in a rush.

“Okay.” Tony holds out his hand. Stephen takes it, a portal opening in the air behind him, and then they’re through and gone.

 

 

“What do you want to do?” Stephen asks him.

They’ve settled in the main library. Books upon books are crammed into every available space, piled on the floors, on tables. Some of them seem to be breathing, moving of their own accord, but like all strange things around Stephen, he ignores them as best as he’s able. It’s better for their friendship, that way. A cup of tea is clutched in Tony’s hands, even though he can’t stand tea. He spends far too much time with people who enjoy it.

“Uh,” Tony says, sipping at his cup. It’s fine china, probably actually from China, knowing the Sanctorum. He wrinkles his nose a little at the taste. “Break the curse…?”

“I meant about Steve,” Stephen says, and Tony rolls his eyes.

“I’ll deal with that later,” he tells him, shrugging. Stephen frowns, leaning over the table. He folds his long-fingered hands together in front of his face, considering Tony over the roof he’s made of them. The weight of his assessing gaze makes Tony shiver a little.

“Tony, do not mistake me. Just because he is Captain America, does not mean you have to let this stand. You have rights. People who will protect you.” He winces, then, taking a long draught from his cup as Tony blinks at him, completely baffled. “I must admit, I don’t understand why you didn’t say something at the start, but you are notorious for hiding your hurts. I suppose I am not so surprised, after all.”

“What are you gonna do?” Tony asks, setting his cup down and spreading his hands. “It’s not like it was his fault. He didn’t even know I was cursed.”

“So you’re just going to live with someone who…forced himself upon you?”

Tony’s world stops.

A single moth flutters through the shaft of sunlight that streams through the high window. It paints a large moon of light on the carpet in the centre of the room, and the moth cutting through it makes a menacing shape on the ground, big as a bat, or a bird.

Cool fear trickles over him, a roaring building in his ears as he listens to Stephen’s words, echoing over and over again. He wonders if the thundering he hears is the flap of the moth’s wings, or perhaps his own heart trying to beat itself out of his chest.

“What,” he says, faintly, and Stephen sighs.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” he begins, but Tony just shakes his head.

“Stephen, that _didn’t happen_.”

“Tony,” Stephen says, frowning, and what the honest everloving fuck is going on right now, seriously, “I listened to your messages. All of them.”

“I said the consent was getting a little grey!” Tony exclaims, standing. He takes a few steps forward, pacing back and forth like a caged animal. “I don’t mean- God, why is everyone so sure I’m some sort of SVU heroine, Jesus Christ.”

Stephen doesn’t say anything, and Tony turns back to him. His grey eyes are narrowed, suspicious, and Tony throws up his hands.

“Yeah, see, that? That’s why I didn’t tell anyone. I’m not crazy, Stephen. It’s a compulsion, but I can feel it. I know when it’s happening. Captain America didn’t rape me, shit.”

“You are notorious for hiding your hurts,” Stephen repeats, and Tony frowns at him. “For you to mention the issue, willingly, signalled to me that there were dire circumstances involved.”

“Yeah, that I wanted to avoid!” Tony exclaims, gesticulating mid-stride. Stephen studies him, chewing at his lip. He nods, once.

“Tell me again, when the spell is removed,” he says, and Tony rolls his eyes. Then he stills, and takes an unsteady breath. A terrible suspicion is building, founded on the defeated, hunched posture Steve had been exhibiting when they left him.

“Stephen, did you tell Steve that he _raped_ me?”

There was a long pause. “I may have implied that you were not entirely acting of your own free will since your fight with Morgan Le Fay.”

All the breath leaves Tony’s body in a heavy rush. “Fuck.” His eyes snap open, panic building in his chest. “Fuck, I have to talk to him.”

“Curse first,” Stephen says firmly, and Tony whirls on him, furious and frightened.

“Why would you tell him something like that?” he snarls, but Stephen only watches him dispassionately.

“Because someone has to look out for you,” Stephen says, “and we both know that, when it comes to Steve, you won’t do it yourself.”

And Tony…has absolutely nothing to say to that.

“If,” Stephen says, face shifting slightly into something kind, “you wanted everything that happened, then I’m sure you will be able to work that out with him later. But right now, my priority is making sure that you are fully possessed of your faculties when you do so. Does that sound fair to you?”

“Yeah,” Tony says, subdued, and Stephen nods.

“Then come,” he says. “This may take a while.”

 

 

Afterwards, when his body has been scanned by a million and six magic spells, and the curse has been identified, and Stephen has broken the enchantment, Tony has the grace to feel a little guilty. He scrubs a hand through his hair, then bumps Stephen’s shoulder gently with his.

“Thank you,” he says. “I appreciate that you were looking out for me, really.”

“Well, you do a poor job of looking out for yourself,” Stephen says, and Tony laughs sheepishly. “I am sure that everything will be fine with Steve.”

Stephen floats up to the top of one towering bookshelf, replacing the tomes he’d taken out to research Tony’s condition one by one. It’s getting late now, the sun spilling rich golds through the huge glass windows. Stephen’s cloak gleams blood red in the light.

“Yeah…” Tony prevaricates, shrugging. “I don’t know about that. But that’s my problem, not yours.” He offers Stephen a wobbly grin. “Thanks for the help.”

“Of course, Tony.” He makes a familiar gesture with his hands. “Shall I send you home?”

“Actually, I think I’ll walk,” Tony says, and Stephen nods. He turns back to his pile of books, slipping the next one in between its companions. “See you ‘round, Sparkles.”

“Tony?” Stephen says, not looking away from the book he’s sliding onto the shelf.

“Yeah?”

“Try not to run into any malevolent magic-wielders on your way home.”

“Hilarious,” Tony mutters, turning towards the large oak doors.

“I’m not joking!”

 

 

Tony half expects Steve to have moved himself out of the tower by the time he gets out of the Sanctum and makes his way home. That would be the kind of self-sacrificing play he’d expect from the man.

What he finds is almost worse.

Steve doesn’t react when Tony walks into the penthouse, his whole body leaning forward towards the television. One hand is clapped over his mouth, his eyes bright and red-rimmed as he watches the screen. And there, on Tony’s enormous flat screen TV, is the security footage of their first time together.

They look good, Tony has to admit. His fingers are wound tight in Steve’s hair, grasping white-knuckled as he tips his head back and moans.

“Oh my god,” he’s gasping, “Steve, _Steve_ _please_ -”

Tony swallows, heat flushing up from his belly. His pulse thunders in his chest.

“You like the idea of making some home movies?” Tony quips, and Steve’s whole body tightens. He presses a button on the remote, and the footage starts to rewind. He clicks play.

“Please, just let me,” Steve says on screen, and the Steve in front of him pauses the video. He doesn’t turn to look at Tony, just sits there, staring at the image of Tony blinking at him, poleaxed in the garage stairwell.

“JARVIS tells me this isn’t what I think it is,” Steve says hoarsely, and Tony glances at the closest security camera. He’s sure his gratefulness is naked on his face. “But no matter how I look at it, it doesn’t quite look like that’s true. Is it?”

“How long have you been doing this?” Tony asks him, and Steve sets the remote down with the kind of deliberate care that means he’s trying not to break it. Tony’s seen him do it before, with objects or people, when he doesn’t trust himself to control his own strength.

“Answer the question, please,” Steve says, and his voice is shaking.

Tony studies him for a long moment, wetting his lips. He glances at the screen, then back at Steve.

“Okay,” he says. He steps forward into the room, slowly, as though Steve is something fragile and ready to be spooked. He is, really. “Can I touch you?”

“Did Stephen clear you?” Steve asks, and Tony nods. “Only…only if you want.”

Tony sits on the couch sideways, turning so his body faces Steve’s. He curls an arm around his shoulders, pressing his nose to the soft line of Steve’s hair at his temple. Steve doesn’t move, just holds himself still, and Tony sighs and presses a gentle kiss to his cheekbone.

“I fucked this up,” Tony admits, and Steve swallows.

“You tried to avoid me, after you realised how badly things could go wrong,” Steve says, which is technically true, but. “I was the one who kept pushing. I should have respected your space.”

“Actually,” Tony says, “I didn’t even know what was happening until…” He stops, closes his eyes. Teresa Alvarez’s face stares back at him.

“What?” Steve turns to face him. Tony’s nose skates over his brow, and Tony presses a soft kiss there, too, before he pulls back to meet Steve’s eyes.

“Guess I’m just so used to listening to you,” Tony says, shrugging, and Steve blinks at him. “I didn’t even notice, if you can believe it. Ask J.”

“I can confirm, sir was absolutely surprised after your last battle with The Wrecking Crew.”

Steve stares at him, surprise filtering over his face, then shock, then despair. “Oh, god,” he says. “And then I said I was glad you’d listened to my orders for once.”

Tony winces. “Not mad about that anymore, Cap, don’t worry.”

“Tony,” Steve says, helplessly. Blue eyes flick back to the screen, lidded dark with anguish. “I ordered you to do things. While we-… while I was touching you. I ordered you to let me touch you. I ordered you to let me tie you up.”

“I enjoyed everything we did,” Tony insists, and Steve’s beautiful eyes slide back to him. They flicker slightly as Steve studies his mouth, his eyebrows, glancing between his eyes. He looks desperately like he wants to believe him. The capillaries around the edges are broken, the skin pink and slightly swollen. They gleam wetly, still. He looks like he might cry again. “Okay, Cap, how about this. J, go back to the beginning.”

JARVIS helpfully changes the timestamp on the footage, and Tony watches Steve pull him into the stairwell with inappropriate desire curling in his stomach like an eel.

“Feel my pulse,” Tony tells him, and Steve reaches up, putting two fingers on the side of Tony’s neck. “Watching this gets me hot. Thinking about you holding me down, how strong-”

“There are moments where you’re unhappy,” Steve says, glancing back at the screen. “I can see it, now that I’m looking for it. Don’t lie to me, Tony.”

Tony smiles. He can’t help it. “A true gentleman,” he teases, but it’s the wrong thing to say. Steve’s shoulders lock, his whole body curling in on itself.

“I know what you’ve been through,” Steve says, and Tony’s mouth snaps shut. “Just because you don’t think it’s a big deal, Tony-”

“Hey,” Tony says, perhaps a little sharper than he’d like, and Steve stops, nostrils flaring. “I’ll give you a pass because you’re upset, but don’t infantilise me, Cap. I know a bad touch when I feel it.”

Steve blanches. “That’s not what I meant,” he says, and Tony rolls his eyes.

“Look,” he says, and Steve turns his attention back to the screen. “J, skip to where Cap orders me to let him take care of me.”

“Let me take care of you,” Steve burrs on screen, and Steve takes a shaky breath in.

“Fuck,” Tony rasps, fingers clenching in the crinkled plastic sash, and his grainy face looks caught halfway between awe and desire. The corner of his mouth curls, just the barest twitch.

“Pause,” Tony says, and Steve stiffens beside him. “Do you want to know why I’m annoyed, there?”

“Because I just ordered you to let me have you?” Steve asks, bitter, and Tony shakes his head.

“I was angry because the words were forced,” he says, turning so he can speak low and rumbling against the hinge of Steve’s jaw, “and I wanted to gift my submission to you freely.”

Steve’s breath punches out of him in a soft wheeze.

“I wanted to be able to give that to you, because you’re unbelievably gorgeous, and sweet, and you looked so happy just to have your hands on me. Touching me. Holding me up.” Steve swallows, throat clicking, and Tony presses an open-mouthed kiss to the shell of his ear. “Submission is a gift, and the curse cheapened that gift. But I wanted to submit to you, Steve. I lied to you, to try to protect myself. I love orders in the bedroom, giving or receiving. I love giving myself over to a lover, letting them use me as they desire. I love taking a lover apart in my hands, gifting them pleasure after pleasure until they can’t breathe with wanting-”

“Tony,” Steve gasps, nails curling deliciously against the nape of Tony’s neck, and Tony runs his tongue around the shell of Steve’s ear.

“Do you want to know what I meant, when I called Stephen about consent issues?” Tony says, and Steve swallows. He nods. “When you offered to tonguefuck me in the stairwell? You almost demanded it. You were so disappointed when I wouldn’t let you, and I was so filthy, Steve, and still the very idea of it made my head spin. God, I was so tempted. I touched myself thinking about it, later.”

“Oh god,” Steve says, eyelashes fluttering closed, and Tony hums, low and pleased.

“I was so dirty, and it was our first time having each other. I was so embarrassed. I hadn’t washed. I hadn’t shaved-”

The noise that Steve looses is nothing less than a whimper, and Tony grins, slow and wicked.

“Oh, you like that idea?”

“ _Tony_ ,” Steve breathes, and he’s near panting, now. Tony can see his chest rise and fall with deep, heavy breaths.

“You like the idea of me being smooth under your tongue? Completely bare, extra-sensitive-”

“Tony, please,” Steve begs, and Tony skims his mouth down Steve’s jaw, up to his ear.

“I’m yours, Captain. So please. Take what you want from me, curse or no curse.”

Steve lets out a shuddering groan. He takes Tony’s mouth in a bruising kiss, and Tony grins into it, teeth clacking unattractively for a moment before he controls himself. He feels like his skin is on backwards, like Steve’s hands are touching his insides. His palms are so hot against Tony’s stomach, his thumb tracing a scorching line over his collarbone. He feels raw, flayed open.

Steve’s mouth moves to his neck, but Tony can feel him holding back. His whole frame is wrought with tension.

“Come on,” Tony says, but Steve shakes his head. He pulls away, sits back on his heels.

“I…I can’t do it this way,” Steve says, and Tony blinks at him. “I need you to control it, this time. I can’t trust myself.”

“You want me to drive?” Tony asks, and Steve swallows. He nods. “But Captain, I thought you wanted to put your mouth on me. I was so looking forward to it.”

“Tony,” Steve says, helpless, and Tony smiles broadly at him.

“Let’s move this to the bedroom,” he says, and Steve’s eyes light up in his face. “You mentioned something about dessert?”

“I want you to tie me up this time,” Steve says, and Tony’s breath stops in his throat. “Tie me down, and then use my mouth however you want.”

“If I tie you up, you’re not in charge,” Tony murmurs, and Steve nods. “I don’t have anything that could hold you, really.”

“I’ll be good,” Steve promises, and Christ, this man is going to be the death of him.

“Just your mouth?” Tony asks him, and Steve’s eyes darken beautifully for him.

“Anything you like,” he says, and his eyes gleam so, so blue. “Didn’t I tell you already, Tony? I’m yours. I’ve always been yours.”

 

 

Tony does his wrists, first.

He’s got strong leather cuffs, steel chain. Tony’s not a supersoldier, but he’s no slouch. They’re built for someone a little more powerful than the average baseline human. He wraps them around Steve’s wrists, first one, then the other. Steve doesn’t say anything, just watches him with dark eyes. The breaths he takes are deep, enough to swell his chest, to make all the fine lines of his obliques stand out in powerful, mouth-watering shapes that Tony desperately wants to get his mouth on. His eyes are guarded, and after he’s done Tony leans in to kiss him, slow and humming with pleasure.

“Gorgeous,” Tony tells him, and Steve cracks a smile. “You’re incredible, all trussed up for me like this.”

“I’m always at your mercy,” Steve teases, before a shadow flits over his face. “I mean-”

“Shh,” Tony says, pressing a kiss to his jaw, his throat, his collarbone. “Hush.”

“God,” Steve says, and Tony laughs.

“You wanted to eat me out,” Tony says, and Steve swallows, colouring a little. Tony doesn’t understand how the man can be so damn brazen and still blush when Tony phrases things a certain way, but it’s one of the things he loves about him. “But I was really enjoying the idea of you holding me down while I was squirming, of you licking into me until I’m begging for you to fuck me. So maybe I’ll wait on that.”

“Tony,” Steve groans, back arching. He keeps his wrists where they are.

“Good boy,” Tony grins, and Steve swallows. “Oh. You like that?”

“I like you,” Steve huffs, and that’s good. It means he’s relaxed enough to sass Tony. “Anything you do is good. I told you; I don’t need anything fancy.”

“Sure,” Tony says, skimming his nails down the thin skin on the inside of Steve’s arms. “But you like this, too. Me being in charge. Calling you pet names. Don’t you, gorgeous?”

Steve licks his lips and says nothing, mulish, and Tony offers him a grin. He leans down to suck Steve’s earlobe into his mouth, running his tongue around the shell of his ear. Steve shudders under his hands.

“You liked being in charge, having me at your mercy. How did I look, squirming for you while you held me down? How did it feel, watching me? Having me there, under your hands, just for you to touch, to kiss, to control and hold and loving every second of it-”

“ _Tony_ ,” Steve gasps, and Tony smiles.

“Tell me.”

“I can’t… There aren’t words for it,” Steve rasps, and Tony preens a little. “They’re all too small.”

“You want to give me that?”

“Anything you want,” Steve says, and Tony smiles a little at the sense memory of being tied, of babbling the same thing for Steve. “Tony, I- God, if I hurt you-”

“Hush,” Tony says. He kisses Steve’s chest, right over where his heart should be. “I called Stephen because I wanted you to not have to feel like this. Nothing happened.”

“But it could have,” Steve says, misery seeping into his sweet face like a poison. “You looked… I saw what I wanted to see. I saw you willing, and shocked because this was really happening. But I know you, Tony. You were surprised, and frustrated, and afraid. I didn’t see that, at the time, but now I do. So fine, you enjoyed it, but I could have hurt you. I could have… I can’t bear the thought.”

“So don’t think about it,” Tony says, and Steve frowns. He smooths his hands down Steve’s chest, dragging his fingers over his stomach. “I want to do this with you because it’ll be fun. What I don’t want is for you to do this because you’re punishing yourself.”

“Being intimate with you could never be a punishment,” Steve tells him seriously, and Tony grins at him.

“That’s what you think. Little do you know.” Steve smiles, soft and warm, and Tony can’t help but smile back at him. “Anyway, you can say sex, Steven.”

“But it’s not just sex,” Steve says, smiling dopily at him now. “Is it?”

“You are such a little shit,” Tony says, and then he leans down and takes one of Steve’s nipples into his mouth, because that’s enough talking, thank you very much.

“Tony!” Steve gasps, startled, and Tony rumbles a low laugh. He sweeps the flat of his tongue over Steve’s skin, feeling the flesh harden in his mouth. He’s always loved that feeling, and he sucks gently at the rising nub, humming in pleasure when Steve arches under his mouth. “Tony, my God-”

Tony scrapes his teeth over the skin, grinning when Steve lets out a choked-off moan at the feel of it. He presses wet kisses across Steve’s chest, running his hands over all that smooth, firm muscle. His fingertips trace the lines of Steve’s abdomen, the cut of his hips, up his arms and over his grasping fingers. It’s not as much sexy as it is claiming, but he can’t stop touching Steve. He’s warm and sweet under him, tilting his head back, exposing his throat, and that’s just an invitation Tony can’t ignore.

He sets to sucking a mark to Steve’s neck, knowing it’ll only last a few minutes. He wishes he could leave bruises on him, but he’ll just have to settle for wearing Steve’s.

“Tony,” Steve gasps, and Tony smiles, rubbing his thumb slowly over the line of muscle that points down to Steve’s groin. “Touch me.”

“I am touching you,” Tony says, and Steve lets out a frustrated growl. The chains clink for a moment before he remembers himself, subsiding and lying back against the sheets.

“I want you,” Steve says, trying for seductive. His hair is wild from thrashing against the pillows, eyes narrowed in frustration. He looks delicious, and not very submissive at all. Tony laughs at him.

“You have me.”

“Tony,” Steve rumbles, and Tony smiles, leaning into kiss him. He gets a sharp bite for his trouble, Steve sucking his tongue into his mouth and moaning like he was made for it. It makes Tony forget himself, his hips thrusting against Steve’s for one delicious, vision-blurring moment of pleasure.

When he pulls away his head is spinning, and Steve looks ravenous. His eyes are black, just a thin ring of blue around the pupil.

“Are you going to fuck me?” he asks, and Tony near about swallows his tongue. “Or let me taste you, like I wanted? I’ll be good for you.” His eyes dip half-closed, lashes a golden sweep over his flushed cheekbones. “I was good to you last time, wasn’t I?”

Tony can feel his cock dripping, remembering Steve pressed three fingers deep inside him, his mouth wrapped around Tony’s cock as he keened and begged. The metal worktop had been freezing against his bare skin, and he’d had no leverage, his calves hanging over Steve’s shoulders. He doesn’t quite stifle a whine.

“Yeah,” Tony manages, and Steve grins at him. “Fuck. You’re too much.”

“You got me all trussed up,” Steve burrs. “I’m not doing anything.”

“Liar,” Tony grumbles, licking back into Steve’s mouth to stop him from talking. Steve hitches a thigh around his hip, dragging him in with a foot hooked around his waist. He moans when Tony settles between his legs, rough and unashamed in his pleasure.

“Come on,” he says, and Tony swallows, pressing their foreheads together for just a moment. He breathes in, sharing breath, warmth. “ _Tony_.”

“Yeah,” Tony says. He pulls back, leaning over the fetch the lube from the drawer in his bedside table. He hasn’t had much occasion to use it of late, and it’s blessedly full. “You want me to use a condom?”

“No,” Steve says, rolling his eyes, and Tony chuckles. “We’re too late for that, anyway, even if I could catch something.”

“I meant to contain the mess,” Tony says dryly, and Steve fixes him with a look, eyes half-lidded and provocative.

“What about the time we’ve spent together tells you I don’t like mess?”

Tony blinks at him. “Uh.”

“I want you to make a mess of me,” Steve says, and that’s…

“Fuck.”

“Yeah,” Steve says, smug now, and Tony huffs out a disbelieving laugh. “Come on, Tony.”

Tony licks his lips, eyes tracing the v of Steve’s hips. He slides down the bed a bit, then leans in, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the soft skin on the inside of Steve’s thighs. Steve shivers under him, moaning softly, and Tony smiles against his skin. He worries the tendon there with his teeth.

“Teasing bastard,” Steve growls, and Tony laughs, licking a slow line up Steve’s cock from base to tip. The sound he looses is pure filth, a low, rumbling moan that curls into a little cut-off huff of breath.

“Shit,” Tony breathes, and then he puts his lips around Steve’s cock and sucks.

 _Finally_ , he thinks, moaning. He’s wanted to do this for ages, but both times Steve had completely assailed him. His mouth is watering, spit running down the hot length of Steve’s cock as he licks around the head, slipping his tongue a little under the foreskin and moaning at the musky taste of him, the smear of pre-cum on his tongue.

Steve’s not quite the monster Tony’d imagined in his wildest fantasies, but he’s big enough, and perfectly shaped, with a little bit of a curve to the right. Tony can feel his stomach tighten, thinking about what Steve felt like buried inside of him, pressing up against his sweet spot until he was literally drooling on the worktop.

“God, your cock is a work of art,” Tony hums, and Steve splutters a half-laugh above him.

“Thanks?” he tries. Tony leans in and takes as much of him into his mouth as he can in reply.

He unscrews the lube as he’s sucking, dipping his fingers into the container and sliding them together. The sound they make is filthy. Tony’s always loved that. Steve can definitely hear it, because he bucks his hips up in anticipation, begging, “Tony, please, come on,” and how can Tony say no to that? He presses one finger in, waiting for Steve’s body to get used to the breach. He’s tight, but the sound that Steve makes is desperate, his hips kicking up a little into Tony’s mouth.

“Hey,” Tony rasps, pulling off. “Watch it with the super strength, gorgeous.”

“Sorry,” Steve manages. His head is twisted to this side, half of his face buried in the pillows. He looks half-gone, his brows furrowed. “God, you have no idea how many times I’ve thought about this.”

“Oh _really_?” Tony drawls, beginning to rock his fingers in and out. He can feel Steve loosen up under him, intentionally relaxing his muscles. “Tell me more.”

“Just, you,” Steve says, and he’s blushing, now. “I imagined it all sorts of ways. But I got to have you, last time, so this was something I’ve been thinking about a lot.”

“Look at me?” Tony asks, and Steve does, turning to meet Tony’s eyes head-on. He looks wild-eyed, almost desperate, but he’s also so obviously happy. His eyes are bright, cheeks flushed. “You want everything, huh?”

“Yes,” Steve says simply, and Tony bites back a grin, a surge of warmth spilling into his chest and stomach. “I- _Oh_.”

“There?” Tony says, crooking his finger, and Steve nods, back arching off the bed.

“Oh, God.”

“Yeah,” Tony says nonsensically, pulling out and adding a second one. He slips them back into Steve’s body, aiming for Steve’s sweet spot, and grins when Steve gasps and tries to bury his face in his arm. “No, I want to see your face.”

“ _Tony_.”

Tony rocks his fingers in, back and forth. “Been a while, huh, Captain?”

“Yes,” Steve hisses, and Tony smiles. He presses a kiss to Steve’s chest, licks over his left nipple just to feel Steve squirm against his lips. “God, you can’t hurt me, come on.”

“I can, too,” Tony counters, indignant. “Just because you’ll heal doesn’t mean I can’t hurt you. Relax, Steve.”

“I’m gonna be 200 by the time you’re done, feels like,” Steve gripes, and Tony laughs. “Tony, come on. I don’t mind if I’m feeling it, later. Might be nice, even.”

“Oh?” Tony manages, head spinning dizzily at the thought of that.

“Yeah,” Steve says. He bites his lip, glancing up at Tony from beneath his eyelashes, and oh, what a bastard. “Tony, I want you inside of me. I want you to claim me, to mark me up as much as you can, come on-”

Tony lets out a rough hiss of breath, pulling his fingers out and slicking himself up. Steve watches him with dark eyes, quietly ravenous, and Tony spares him a single kiss to his jaw before he presses inside.

The squeeze is nearly unbearable, Steve hot and tight around him. He knows it must burn a bit, and he goes slow, revelling in the dazed, slack-jawed expression overtaking Steve’s face. His eyes are fluttering, half-shut, irises just a thin ring of dark blue around a wide black pupil. He looks wrecked and ravenous by turns, and when Tony’s fully seated he lets out a low moan, his thighs tightening around Tony’s hips.

“I’m yours,” he murmurs, and Tony blinks as a wave of something overwhelming and warm rises up, surging through him like a storm and leaving him shaking. “Tony.”

“Yes,” Tony says. He presses a kiss to Steve’s jaw, his collarbone, the smooth skin above his heart. “Steve.”

“Go on,” Steve says, and Tony takes a breath. He stretches up to kiss Steve on the mouth, their lips sliding together with a slick sound that makes Tony moan into it, hips kicking forward involuntarily, and then they’re off. Steve pushes back against him, writhing in his lap, and Tony sets a brutal pace, tilting Steve’s hips up, shifting one leg over his shoulder, until-

“Oh,” Steve gasps, and Tony smiles. He presses a kiss to the inside of Steve’s thigh.

“There?”

“ _Tony_.”

Tony grins, and grinds his hips forward, rocking into Steve until he’s groaning loud, his whole body one long line of gasping pleasure. Tony fits his fingers over Steve’s obliques, his abdominal muscles, the pebbled skin of his nipples. Every inch of him is gorgeous, and he’s Tony’s, now. Or maybe he’s always been.

“Touch me,” Steve is begging, demanding, but Tony doesn’t listen to him. He doesn’t have to, and he’s not ready for this to be done yet. “Tony, _Tony_ -”

“I love you,” Tony breathes, fingers digging into Steve’s thighs as hard as he’s able. He can do that, with Steve. He can have anything. “I love you, and you’re mine, too. I’m yours, and you’re mine.”

“Yes, Tony, yes,” Steve babbles, half out of his mind with it. The metal of the cuffs is straining, a quiet clicking creak, and Tony reaches down and takes Steve’s dripping cock in his hand, working him once, twice. Steve arches his back, eyes fluttering shut. His mouth opens, a gasp that might be Tony’s name or a benediction spilling from his lips as he comes, warm and sticky over Tony’s fingers, his own stomach, his chest.

It doesn’t take much for Tony after that, his head dipping down to rest against Steve’s collarbone. He pants against the skin, his hips stuttering as his body locks up, and then he’s coming so hard he loses track of time. Steve is still gasping beneath him, legs tight around Tony’s waist, and Tony collapses on top of him with a huff, burying his face in Steve’s neck.

“Jesus.”

“Mmm.”

Warmth curls in Tony’s stomach, aftershocks sending chills over his skin as the sweat cools. Eddys of air leave goose bumps in their wake.

Eventually Tony sits up, his cock slipping out of Steve’s body with a sound that makes Steve flush a little. Or maybe it’s the feel of it, Tony doesn’t know. He leans down to press chaste kisses to the pink skin below his eyes, over the bridge of his nose, even as he reaches up to undo the cuffs around Steve’s wrists. Steve’s eyes are warm and unbearably tender as he watches him, and he reaches out as soon as he’s able, pulling Tony into a low, searing kiss that sucks what little breath Tony had managed to regain straight out of him. He plasters himself to Steve’s front with a huff, resting their foreheads together. He breathes in the scent of him.

“I’m sorry I didn’t notice, before,” Steve says, and Tony huffs a laugh.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“You didn’t trust me,” Steve says, and Tony winces.

“That’s not it,” he tries, but Steve isn’t having any of that. He rolls them with a quick movement, until Tony is pinned underneath him. He presses a soft kiss to Tony’s ear.

“Yes,” he says, sounding sad about it. “It is. And that’s my fault, too, as much as it is yours.”

Tony opens his mouth to protest, but Steve stops him with a single finger on Tony’s lips. He props his head on his hand, resting his weight on his elbow so he’s sprawled half over Tony. His free hand traces the planes of Tony’s face, lingering at the corners of his eyes, the lines framing his mouth.

“Tony,” he says, and there’s that look that appears on Steve’s face, sometimes. It dawns slow, and gentle, and it feels like Steve is trying to hold him with nothing but his gaze. It stirs something in Tony’s belly, something roiling and strange, and his breath catches when Steve leans down to press a kiss to his furrowed brow. “I’ve waited years for you.”

Tony sighs. “I’m sorry-” he begins, but Steve only hushes him again.

“I’ve loved you all this time. Don’t you think I know who you are? You’re the man that I can count on to challenge me, to always make sure that I’m making the right decision. Together we make the Avengers strong, Tony.” Steve swallows, his eyes suspiciously bright, wet under the warm lamplight of the bedroom. “If you were just an obedient soldier, well…you wouldn’t be the man I love.”

“People usually love me in spite of my mouth,” Tony jokes, but Steve isn’t laughing. His eyes are dark and serious as he considers Tony, and Tony closes his eyes as Steve presses another kiss to his brow, firm and unyielding.

“I love all of you,” Steve says, and Tony swallows. “I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like that wasn’t the case.”

“Okay,” Tony says, subdued. He lets himself burrow a little deeper into the warmth of Steve’s body, pressing his nose to the warm skin over his brachial artery. He imagines he can feel Steve’s pulse against his lips, steady and strong. “Guess you’ll just have to show me, huh, soldier.”

“Guess so,” Steve says softly, and Tony smiles against his skin. “I’ve got time to convince you, haven’t I?”

“Yeah,” Tony says, closing his eyes. “You do.”

 

 

“So,” Pepper says, and Tony winces. He glances at Beth, who was already in Pepper’s office when he came in this morning. Her expression is nothing short of smug.

“In my defence,” he says, “whatever it was, it wasn’t even my fault. In fact, I’m disappointed! I left my best men in charge, and I went to handle an Avengers emergency. It’s not my fault that things went pear-shaped in my absence-”

“You’re _dating_ Steve?” Pepper skirls, and Tony closes his mouth.

“Uh.”

“And you didn’t tell me?” Pepper continues, and oh, she’s hurt. Tony sucks in a breath, folding his hands in his lap. “How long has this been going on? I thought you were doing this to avoid him!”

“Well,” Tony tries, “I was. But uh.”

“But what?” Pepper says, folding her arms, but her eyes are bright with mirth. “You cost me twenty bucks.”

“Pepper!” Tony crows, shocked. He bursts into helpless laughter. “You, too?”

“Steve’s more sensitive than you,” Pepper sniffs. “Beth and I agreed, you’d never ask Steve out. You don’t think you’re good enough for him. Which is silly, by the way. You’re plenty good enough.”

“No, see, I don’t think that’s true,” Beth says, and her smile spreads into the kind of grinning triumph that Tony knows to be wary of. “It was magic, wasn’t it?”

Tony opens his mouth, then closes it again, because there’s no way. There is absolutely no way that she’d worked that out.

“It was!” she says, clapping her hands together with a bright laugh. “Do you know what this means?”

“I didn’t say anything,” Tony tries, but Beth only rolls her eyes at him.

“You’re very easy to read,” she tells him, waving a hand. Pepper laughs at the outraged expression on his face. “Pepper, do you know what this means?”

“It means that Peter wins the pot,” Pepper laughs, “because he was convinced that you were both too stubborn to do anything about it on your own, and that it would take outside influence. He suspected mind reading, or a truth spell, or something like that. So come on, Tony, what was it?”

Tony rubs a hand over his face, because these past few weeks have been hell, and he doesn’t know how he feels about them taking the piss out of him for it. And then he cracks a smile, because what the hell. Peter needs the money more than Natasha, and Natasha doesn’t deserve the satisfaction.

“Obedience spell,” he admits, and Beth stares at him, her brow crinkling. Colour floods her face.

“Ooh, _Tony_ ,” she purrs, fanning herself, and Tony throws up his hands, because no. He’s slept with 100% of the people in this room, and he has a line, okay? He does, and he’s found it.

“I have a meeting,” he says, pushing himself to standing, and Beth and Pepper are giggling at each other now, sharing knowing looks. “Goodbye, ladies.”

“Don’t go, Tony, we want stories!”

Tony closes the door to Pepper’s office behind him with a huff of laughter. Outside, a few SI employees walk by, offering him a smile and a nod. He composes himself with a small shake, then heads down to his meeting with Stark Legal. They’re supposed to discuss the licencing for a new line of Iron Man toys proposed by Mattel. He’s mostly going because Joyce is running the meeting. He likes Joyce.

“You, going to a meeting voluntarily?” JARVIS asks him as the elevator doors close. “Wonders never cease, sir.”

“Pepper is exploiting the friends I made during the float construction,” Tony explains, because he knows when he’s being handled.

“Of course she is,” JARVIS agrees, unabashed. “Why do you think Mx. Tan now handles all your publicity appointments?”

“Because they helped me plan the fireworks display for Lunar New Year,” Tony says, remembering, “and I really, really like their hair. J, I’m beginning to suspect she’s entrapping me with fun.”

“Just wait until Holi,” JARVIS tells him, and Tony can’t help his smile. He imagines the Avengers running around the Memorial Park, clouds of bright colours coating everything. He imagines Steve painted from head to toe in bright pinks and blues, his grin infectious and beautiful and everything Tony’s ever wanted. He imagines the brilliant, creative Desi SI employees that are going to get involved in the project and earn endless goodwill from him because of it, and pitches a soft sigh.

“I _am_ getting old and predictable,” he says, “aren’t I?”

“I couldn’t say, sir,” JARVIS tells him, but that’s alright, he thinks. It doesn’t seem so bad, settling down. He might even enjoy it.

“Call Stephen,” Tony says, “and tell him I said thank you, and he was right; it all worked out.”

“Shall I send a gift basket?”

“Sure. Hell, maybe I should send one to Morgan Le Fay.”

"Please don't, sir."

"Yeah, probably not."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap! I struggled a lot with the ending for this one, and I'm still not sure if I'm happy with it. Meh. C'est la vie.
> 
> I also realised after I wrote this that everyone in it was on the Protect Tony Stark train, probably to make up for the brush with potential squick/rape in it. But also I hate the trope where everyone tells Tony he's no good for Steve and fulfills his own personal insecurities, so. There's a story for you where everyone wants to protect and love Tony instead. Even Stephen! In his own grumpy way.
> 
> Hope you had fun! Thanks for stopping by. Drop a line, let me know what you thought. As always, all comments welcome.

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilery content warnings: This is a story where Tony is cursed to obey Steve. Steve doesn't know this, and uses commands during a sexual encounter with Tony. Tony is happy with everything that is happening, but struggles with the fact that he wouldn't be able to say no if he did want to.


End file.
